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4i There’s your artillery, Lieutenant,’* cried Ray, “ Let’s take their own 

guns and turn ’em on them.” Page 259. 



Barrage Fire Barnes 

OF THE 


Field Artillery 


BY 

WILLIAM R. JAMES 

n 


ILLUSTRATED 

BY 

ARTHUR 0 . SCOTT 


NEW YORK 


THE PLATT y NOURSE CO. 






f 




I 


Copyright, 1919, by 
THE PLATT & NOURSE CO. 




NOV -7 1919 


©CI.A535011 


'Vv’p \ 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I Ray Decides 5 

II Barnes of the Field Artillery ... 15 

III Spike — The New Rookie 25 

IV Camping at Prattsburgh 42 

V Seventy-Fives 60 

VI Putting in the Finishing Touches . . 74 

VII Over There 89 

VIII Called to Action 101 

IX The Fight for the Ridge 114 

X Retreat 136 

XI Caisson Corporal Barnes of the First 

Section 150 

XII Back to the Battle 161 

XIII The Big Push 183 

XIV Under the Huns’ Guns 200 

XV Through the German Lines . . . . 217 

XVI Holding the River Salient . . . . 237 

XVII In the Jaws of the Yankee NutCracker 251 

XVIII When the Artillery Arrived . . . 272 




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Barrage Fire Barnes of the 
Field Artillery 


CHAPTER I. 

RAY DECIDES. 

To say that Ray Barnes was the most serious 
of all that group of Emerson Hall High School 
graduates who shook hands with each other and 
said good-by, under the glimmering arc light on 
Bush Avenue that momentous night in April, 
would not have been exactly fair to the rest of 
the fellows, but certain it was that he was not 
the least serious of the lot. 

Ray had a little more to sacrifice by enlisting 
than most of the chaps. He had a good position 
in the Eighth National Bank; he had certain 
hobbies that he was pursuing, as for instance 
his study of banking methods, which he followed 
by attending school at Columbia College three 
nights each week, and, most important of all, 
his little class of Italian boys, whom he was 
teaching English, for an hour between five and 
six o’clock every second evening in the Crystal 
5 


6 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


Settlement House on the lower East Side. Tc 
be sure he had besides this, as had most of the 
other boys in the Sphinx Club, a wonderful 
mother and a fine chummy dad, whom he hated 
to think of leaving. 

To give all this up and enlist for active service 
in the National Guard meant a hard pull for 
Ray, a little harder pull perhaps than for the 
average chap, for these things he had built up 
for his own pleasures during the last four years 
since he had left High School. Yet after all, he 
knew that it was his duty to make these sacri- 
fices and serve his country for deep down in his 
heart he felt that it was the duty of every fellow 
over the age of eighteen or nineteen who had no 
really serious obligations at home, to enlist. 

“Yes,” he told himself as he made his way 
toward the street car line that would take him 
nearest his home, “Yes, Prof. Brockford is right. 
Each of us chaps has a duty now; a duty that 
comes before any of our pleasures or our busi- 
ness. I guess we all have been shirkers to a 
certain extent or we would have taken steps, 
long ago, toward preparing ourselves to be of 
service to Uncle Sam when he needed us. 
Shucks, I could have spared some time at least 
to serve an enlistment in the National Guard, 
and if I had, I would now be ready for service. 
Prof, was right, and he sure handed it to us 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


7 


tonight. And to think that Danny Kelly was 
the first of us all to realize his mistake and to 
enlist immediately. Bully for Danny.” 

Thus he cogitated on the subject of past mis- 
takes, as he hurried homeward, and as to just 
what he would have to do about his position, his 
school work, his settlement work, and his mother 
and father, before he too signed up for service. 

And while he is cogitating, and while the 
street car is taking him toward his home, it might 
be well to explain, for the benefit of those who 
have not yet made the acquaintance of the 
Sphinx Club of Emerson Hall High School, 
Professor Brockford, Danny Kelly, Les Stewart, 
Ray, Bud Grant, and the rest of the fellows, just 
what this organization is and who these fellows 
are. 

Emerson Hall, the oldest and finest school in 
the city, had among its many other student or- 
ganizations a club known as the Sphinx Club, 
which was organized and conducted by the grad- 
uate students of the school, and which, through 
the courtesy of the principal, held its regular 
meetings in the tower-room of the gray old 
granite school building. Professor Brockford, 
who had lately left the school as a teacher to 
become a practicing physician, was the advisor 
of the Sphinx Club, and the warm friend of 
every member. 


8 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


At the time our story opens, the President had 
proclaimed in a stirring message that the United 
States had entered the war on the side of justice 
and righteousness, and that soon Uncle Sam’s 
khaki troops would be pouring into Europe to 
fight shoulder to shoulder with the Tommies of 
Cousin John Bull, and the brave French Poilus. 
And on the heels of the President’s message 
came the call to arms echoing throughout the 
country. 

Of course every red-blooded chap felt a re- 
sponse to the call welling up within him, and the 
fellows who belonged to the Sphinx Club were 
no exceptions. Indeed, by the time the mobiliza- 
tion of the National Guard was well under way 
the fellows began to inquire of each other just 
what they should do for their part in the war. 
Ray was among the very first to ask the question, 
and receiving no answer he turned to Professor 
Brockford for advice. 

Over the telephone he put the question. But 
the Professor, never slow in a crisis, had already 
done his part, and had made up his mind what 
his young friends in the Sphinx Club should do 
too. He told Ray briefly to call a special meeting 
of the Sphinx Club that night, and Ray, who was 
president, at the time, was busy the rest of the 
afternoon arranging the details. 

Professor Brockford appeared at the meeting 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


9 


in the khaki uniform of a lieutenant and told the 
boys that he had joined the Liberty Hospital 
Unit, as a physician, with the office of Second 
Lieutenant. Then in no uncertain terms he 
assured them that it was high time they all did 
their part by joining some branch of the National 
Guard. He went further. He pointed out to 
them that if they had been alive to what was 
offered them in the way of an interesting time, 
they would have joined the National Guard long 
since and taken advantage of their fine athletic 
organizations, their big armories, with indoor- 
track, basket ball, tennis, baseball and gymna- 
sium privileges, the summer encampments and 
the military training which, he assured every 
fellow, should be part of his general education. 

By way of helping some fellows to decide the 
branch of the service they should enter, he 
offered to take two of them as ambulance drivers 
with the Liberty Unit which he said was slated 
to sail for France in a short time. Of course all 
the boys were eager to go and the result was that 
the coveted two positions had to be drawn for. 
Hobby Austin and Hopper Gordon were the 
fortunate ones, and as a result it fell to the rest 
of the fellows to choose their own method of 
serving Uncle Sam. As it happened, Danny 
Kelly, whose adventures you may have already 
read, had not waited for the meeting. He had 


10 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


enlisted in the “Fighting Fifth” and he came to 
the Sphinx gathering that night in full uniform. 

Les Stewart was next to make up his mind, 
and announced his intentions of joining the 
Naval Militia, in which branch of the service he 
later had some stirring times as many of you 
already know. But salt water did not appeal to 
any of the rest, and Buck Sharp loudly acclaimed 
that he was for the cavalry, whereupon Bud 
Grant ridiculed that branch of the service, and 
announced that the only sensible place for strap- 
ping young fellows to work was with the signal 
corps. 

But Ray Barnes, with whom this story mostly 
deals, had his own ideas about how and where he 
wanted to serve. That he should enter the ser- 
vice he no longer questioned, after hearing Pro- 
fessor Brockford’s opinion on the subject. The 
hardest part of it was to give up all the things he 
held so dear at home. Not that he had it harder 
than thousands of other fellows who were cheer- 
fully making sacrifices. Indeed, that is what 
made him feel a little ashamed of himself. He 
knew that fellows of his own age the world over 
were sacrificing everything on this altar of patri- 
otism even to their lives, and here he was feeling 
unhappy about leaving the few things he had 
built up for himself, and which doubtless he could 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


11 


come back to at the end of the war — providing he 
came back at all. 

‘Tm certain the bank will hold my job for 
me,” said Ray as he left the street car and walked 
up Greene Avenue toward his home, “and as for 
the schooling, well I guess I'll have lots of time to 
study banking methods when I come back. The 
Sphinx Club is being split up anyhow by this war, 
so I’ll not miss much there. The hardest thing 
of all is the settlement work. But shucks, I guess 
they can find someone to take care of the kiddies 
until I come back. No, I haven't a really good 
reason for not enlisting, so I'm going to go — 
Hello. Wonder why Dad and Mother are up so 
late." 

Ray bounded up the front steps of the brown- 
stone house in which he and his father and 
mother and sister lived, and letting himself in 
with his latch key hurried into the library. 

“Hello, Dad," he cried. Then catching sight 
of his mother, “Hello there, good old Mumsie. 
Why — why — what — you've been crying." 

His mother smiled sadly and replied: 

“Are my eyes red, Ray, dear?" which was just 
like a woman and Ray hugged her for it. 

“Not very red, Mumsie," said Ray consolingly, 
“but what's the matter? Say, Dad, what's the 
trouble? You look as serious as an owl. Stocks 


12 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


been going down ? No, they haven’t? Then what 
are you so serious about?” 

“Serious, Ray, these are serious times, aren’t 
they ? I’ll ask you the same question. Why were 
you looking so serious when you came in just 
now ?” 

Ray smiled soberly. 

“You’ve struck it, Dad. These are serious 
times. And to tell the truth I was wondering 
just how I was going to make myself do my part.” 

“And we were just worrying over the part you 
will have to do, Ray, for mother and I are mighty 
certain you are going to enlist,” said his father. 

“Well, Dad, don’t you think I should?” 

“I don’t think, Ray. I knozv you should. Ray, 
I honestly think you should have been in the ser- 
vice long ago ; that is I think you should have been 
a National Guardsman. It’s every fellow’s duty 
to serve at least one enlistment in the National 
Guard, and besides a chap of your age, athletic 
and all that, can have a bully time in the 

“Dad, you good old fellow, you’re taking the 
words right out of Prof. Brockford’s mouth. 
That’s the way he lectured us all for nearly an 
hour tonight. We’ve all been feeling like slackers 
ever since. To tell the truth, Dad, I never knew 
what a fine organization the National Guard was 
until Prof, began to talk about it tonight. I guess 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 13 

most of us Sphinx Club chaps have missed some 
mighty good times these last few years.” 

“You are right, Ray,” assured his father. “The 
National Guard is the second line of defense on 
land, and every chap who can should join it. The 
State has invested a great many million dollars 
in armories, which are the bulliest kind of club 
houses for you fellows. Thousands of dollars 
are spent in providing uniforms, rifles, and other 
equipment for the men, and there are athletic 
tourneys, bowling, swimming, fine camps and a 
host of other things to hold a young fellow’s in- 
terest in the Militia. It’s really bully stuff, Ray.” 

“I guess it is, Dad,” said Ray, “and I know 
I’ve made a mistake in not joining sooner. But 
thank goodness it isn’t too late now. Of course, 
if I enlist at this time I will not get much of a 
chance to enjoy any of the privileges. I’ll get all 
of the hard part now but maybe when I come 
back — if — er I mean when I get back I’ll have 
some fun out of it.” 

Ray shot a quick glance at his mother and saw 
that tears were gathering in her eyes. But she 
wiped them away bravely and smiled at him. 

“Then you’ve really decided to join?” asked 
his father. 

“You bet I have, Dad,” assured Ray. 

“Well which branch of the National Guard do 


14 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


you think you will go in for?” queried Mr. 
Barnes. 

“Why I have a leaning toward Field Artillery, 
Dad. You know how fond I am of horses and 
that sort of thing. I think Fll go out for that.” 

“Then don’t lose any time, Ray. Arrange all 
your affairs tomorrow and enlist immediately be- 
cause I heard tonight that the Field Artillery 
regiments were filling up fast,” said his father. 
Then he added, “And now come on to bed. We’ll 
go over the details tomorrow and perhaps I can 
help you a little in getting things straightened out 
at the bank. Maybe I can help you get into some 
one of the artillery commands if you have any 
difficulties.” 

“Thank you, Dad. Come on, Mother. Where’s 
Sis? Gone to bed already ? That’s too bad. Well 
I’ll call good-night to her,” said Ray as he took 
his mother’s arm and started upstairs. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


15 


CHAPTER II. 

BARNES OF THE) FIE)LD ARTITTERY. 

The next day proved to be an extremely busy 
one, and full of disappointments for Ray. First 
of all he secured a hearing with Mr. Thatcher, 
the President of the Eighth National Bank, and 
told him frankly that he intended to enlist. Mr. 
Thatcher, of course, congratulated him on his 
attitude and assured him that his position would 
be waiting for him when he returned. 

That being satisfactorily disposed of, Ray re- 
turned to his desk, and after writing a letter of 
resignation to his night-school instructor at Co- 
lumbia, he cleaned out his personal belongings, 
packed them up and arranged to have them 
expressed home. Then came the hard part of 
saying good-by to all his chums in the bank, of 
which there were many. 

From the bank, Ray hurried over to the settle- 
ment house where he met a number of his friends 
who worked with him in the poorer quarters of 
the city among the kiddies and grown folks as 
well. Ray explained to them that he would no 
longer be able to do his work there, all of which 


16 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


made him feel unhappy too. He met a number 
of his little boy acquaintances, tiny dirty-faced 
Italians and Jews, who thought as much of him 
as they did of their own big brothers, and as he 
said good-by to each of them, Ray felt a distinct 
tug at his heart-strings. 

Those unpleasant duties were finished after a 
time, however, and late in the afternoon, footloose 
and free, as he termed it, he hurried over to 
Brooklyn toward the old fashioned brick armory, 
where Battery J had its headquarters. 

Here Ray was surprised to find quite a crowd 
of young fellows standing outside the closed 
doors. He could not quite understand why. But 
he soon knew when he applied for admission to 
the building from the sentry who paced restlessly 
up and down. 

“Where do you want to go?” asked the sentry 
clicking his heels together as he addressed Ray. 

“Why I want to go inside,” said Ray somewhat 
surprised at being stopped. 

“What for?” asked the sentry. 

“I want to enlist.” 

“Sorry, old top, but there’s no chance. Battery 
is full. You are just about a day too late,” said 
the Guardsman. 

“Is that straight?” asked Ray. “You mean I 
can’t get in.” 

“No. You can’t. Nothing doing. Say why 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 17 

don’t you jump over to New York and try Bat- 
tery K? That is the same regiment as our bat- 
tery. Nice lot of chaps over there too, only you’d 
better beat it or you’ll be shut out over there. 
They need a couple of huskies like you.” 

Ray “beat it.” As fast as elevated train and 
subway could carry him he hurried over to Man- 
hattan, and uptown, and in due time he was 
standing in front of the armory of Battery K. 
Here too a sentry had been posted to keep back 
a tiny knot of fellows who stood helplessly about 
the entrance. Ray’s spirits fell when he saw 
them there, for he had a premonition that Bat- 
tery K was filled up too. 

Approaching the sentry, Ray was about to 
speak when the chap in khaki anticipated his 
words. 

“Nothing doing here, old scout. All four bat- 
teries filled up.” 

“K Battery too?” asked Ray. 

“Yep. Took the last three men in at twelve 
o’clock.” 

“Shucks, is there any artillery command that 
isn’t filled up?” asked Ray disconsolately. 

“Only ones I know of is Battery F and Battery 
G over in New Jersey,” said the sentry. 

“Shucks, I’m a New Yorker and I want to get 
into a New York outfit,” said Ray. 

“Hard luck, old chap,” said the sentry. 


18 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


It was hard luck. Ray felt miserable as he 
boarded the subway train, breasting the rush 
hour crowd, and started home to Brooklyn. 

He was the picture of discouragement when 
he reached his home in Greene Avenue and his 
father, who was waiting for him could not help 
but smile when Ray told him of the discourage- 
ments he had met with. 

“Cheer up, Raymond. I anticipated you would 
have trouble so I called up my old friend, Colonel 
Martin, and he " 

“Colonel Martin. Why he's the commander of 
the S Field Artillery Regiment to which Bat- 

tery J belongs. I didn't know you knew him." 

“Yes, I happen to know him quite well," said 
Mr. Barnes with a smile. “He said Battery J was 
full and so were the other Brooklyn batteries but 
he knew that the Chaplain needed a chauffeur 
for his automobile and that Battery J needs a 
mail clerk. He gave me a letter to Captain 
Blanchard, who is at the armory, recommending 
you for either one of these positions." 

“But shucks, Dad, I don't want to be a chauf- 
feur or a mail clerk I want to be in with the 
bunch. A regular fellow," protested Ray. 

“Tut, tut. What you want to do is to get in 
first. It will be easy to swap jobs with some other 
chap if you don't like being a mail clerk, you 
know," said his father. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 19 

“Guess you are right as usual, Dad. Where’s 
the letter? I’ll go down there tonight. Whoop- 
ee-e-e I may get in after all. Almost thought 
today that I would have to be satisfied with the 
Infantry,” cried Ray now thoroughly happy. 

Ray’s dinner was bolted in a hurry that eve- 
ning, and he did not wait for a second helping of 
dessert as usual, before he rushed for his hat and 
with a hasty peck on his mother's cheek by way of 
a kiss rushed out the door and hurried to the 
nearest street-car line. 

With the letter from Colonel Martin which his 
father had given him, he had little trouble pass- 
ing the sentry at the door, and presently he found 
himself inside the big armory building, which 
enclosed a tan bark arena unexpectedly large, 
and unexpectedly crowded with prancing horses, 
eight field pieces, limbers and caissons, scores 
of men in khaki, great piles of luggage, trans- 
port wagons, piles of tents and what-not, in- 
cluding an automobile field kitchen. Men in 
uniform were moving about, some apparently 
in a great hurry, others sauntering up and 
down, and several sitting close to the edge of 
the arena were playing mummel-the-peg with a 
huge jack-knife. They were a bully looking set 
of fellows and Ray hoped that his fondest dream 
would soon be realized and that before long he 
would be one of them. 


20 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


The front end of the building, both on the 
ground floor and upstairs, was taken up with 
officers’ quarters, company rooms, store-rooms, 
quartermaster’s department, and similar execu- 
tive departments, and Ray had some difficulty 
in finding Captain Blanchard’s office. When 
he did he found that the tiny place was well 
crowded with officers and men all waiting their 
turn to see the executive. Ray took his place in 
line with the rest, and slowly, one by one the 
men ahead of him were ushered in. Presently, 
his turn came, and as he was passing in through 
the small door to the inner office where Captain 
Blanchard sat, a big broad shouldered fellow 
with a fine clean-cut face came out, brushed by 
Ray and went on down stairs. 

Coming into the presence of Captain Blan- 
chard, Ray was struck with his gray hair and 
gray mustache and very fatherly face. He 
smiled a welcome to the young fellow in spite 
of the fact that he was apparently heels over 
head in work. 

“Captain Blanchard, my name is Ray Barnes. 
I have a letter of introduction here from Colonel 
Martin, sir,” said Ray crisply. 

“V ery good let me have it,” said the Captain, 
and taking the letter he broke it open and read 
it. And as he read the expression on his face 
changed to one of serious thought. Ray knew 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


21 


instinctively that a disappointment was in store 
for him. 

“Why, Raymond, my boy, Fm mighty sorry, 
but the position of mail clerk for our battery was 
filled this afternoon, and the man who just passed 
you on the way out, was accepted for the Chap- 
lain’s chauffeur.” 

Ray could hardly hide his disappointment. 

“Shucks, beaten out by ^ibout five minutes. 
Well if that isn’t the hardest luck a fellow could 
have. I — I — er — well I suppose I’ll have to go 
over to the infantry and enlist.” 

“Oh if it’s only a chance to enlist that you are 
after I’ll give you that,” said Captain Blanchard, 
“I thought you were looking for some special 
job, like mail clerk or chauffeur.” 

“But I — I — well the sentry told me this after- 
noon that the Battery was filled up,” exclaimed 
the surprised Ray, hardly able to credit his own 
hearing. 

“It was,” smiled the Captain, “but since then 
we have been having a new medical examination 
and two men have been dismissed from the Bat- 
tery so far, and there may be more vacancies 
before midnight. Do you want to try for one 
of the places?” 

“Do I? I just guess so.” 

“Very good,” said the Captain. Then, “Or- 
derly !” 


22 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


The orderly appeared. 

“Take this man to Recruiting Sergeant Bates.” 

“Very good, sir.” 

After so many disappointments that day, Ray 
could hardly believe that it was all true, and he 
was half afraid that perhaps during the process 
of recruiting, he would encounter some obstacle 
that would not let him into the outfit. 

But he did not. Sergeant Bates gave him 
innumerable papers to sign and asked him a score 
of questions and then turned him over to the 
orderly who took him into the medical officer's 
quarters. Here he went through a trying exam- 
ination during which he was measured, marked 
and fingerprinted, with every bone and muscle 
and organ in his body scrutinized closely. But he 
was finally sent back to Sergeant Bates, “sound 
as a dollar.” 

Here other papers were signed, then he was 
turned over to Sergeant Brush, who looked him 
over and then sent him to the Supply Sergeant, 
of Battery J, who hurried him to the quartermas- 
ter's domains, where, from great stacks of cloth- 
ing, hats, breeches and like equipment, Ray was 
given a complete outfit, even to summer under- 
clothing and two pairs of shoes. 

It was close to eleven o'clock when Ray, 
dressed in his newly acquired uniform, reported 
to Sergeant Brush, who was the chief non-com 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


23 


of the platoon he had already been assigned to, 
with a request for a pass until the following 
morning. 

“Oh that’s all right,” said the Sergeant giving 
him a pass. “Only a few men are sleeping at 
the armory now. You will be able to go home 
every night until we get orders to move. Report 
in the morning at eight o’clock sharp.” 

With his citizen’s clothes in a bundle under his 
arm Ray hurried out of the armory. The street 
cars did not travel half fast enough for him that 
night for he was all eagerness to get home and 
show off his new uniform. Three steps at a time 
he cleared the front porch, then fumbling with 
the latch key, he let himself in and with a rush 
he burst into the library where Mother and Dad 
and Sis were awaiting his return. 

Of course he hurried to his mother first and 
threw his arms about her. And she laid her 
head on his shoulder and cried softly : 

“My boy, my boy, my boy. I — know — it’s — 
the — right — thing — for— you — to — do, but — oh 
it’s hard, Ray.” 

“Oh shucks, Mother, don’t feel badly. It’s 
really only a lark. Cheer up.” 

Ray’s father held him off at arm’s length and 
looked at him and although he did not say much, 
it was easily seen that he was as proud as Punch. 

“You managed to get a mighty good fitting 


24 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


uniform, Raymond,’’ was all that he said, but 
Ray knew the pride that was swelling in the 
bosom of his father, and he could not restrain a 
desire to grip the man’s hand, and give him a 
good big hug and kiss too. 

It was well after midnight when they all got 
to bed, for Ray told from beginning to end his 
experiences of the night, and of course he had 
a proud and attentive audience. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


25 


CHAPTER III. 
spike: — the: ne:w rookie:. 

For the next few weeks, being an artilleryman 
was very little different from going to business 
for Ray, except of course he left the house a 
little earlier in the morning and returned home a 
little later at night. There was a certain irregu- 
larity about meals because no provisions had as 
yet been made whereby meals could be served to 
the men at work in the armory. 

But unlike going to business, there was a lot 
of real man-size work to be done at the armory, 
and no end of details that Ray and many other 
new men were forced to learn as quickly as pos- 
sible. Ray had already received his assignment 
to the first platoon of Battery J, but because he 
was a likely looking “rookie,” as Gun Corporal 
Arbuckle dubbed him, he was given No. 5 posi- 
tion with a place on the caisson “right over the 
explosives” as he told his Dad facetiously, one 
evening. 

However, there were scores of things he had 
to learn before he could take his place on the 
caisson, and he quickly realized that he was in 


26 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


for the hardest work he had ever done in his 
life. He and a half dozen other rookies composed 
what really amounted to an awkward squad and 
they spent hours each day under the command 
of Sergeant Brush, learning the school of the 
soldier unmounted. 

There were marching steps and commands, 
manual of arms, which every soldier must know, 
setting up exercises of which there were a dozen 
different varieties each one calculated to take the 
stiffness out of certain groups of muscles, pistol 
drill and a host of similar rudiments to be learned. 
Indeed, Ray never realized that it required such 
really hard work to learn to become the most 
elementary kind of a soldier. He spent hours 
drilling and learning and many other hours, both 
day and night, reading and studying various 
manuals and books on soldiering, with which he 
made haste to provide himself. 

But in due time he did become quite a credit- 
able foot-soldier, and meanwhile he began all 
over again to learn to be an artilleryman. 

From books and through the diligent efforts 
of Sergeant Brush, Caisson Corporal Norman, 
Gun Corporal Arbuckle and even Lieutenant 
Lang, who occasionally took charge of the squad, 
he learned that a Battery was composed of four 
field pieces, limbers and caissons, that a piece 
and a caisson were known as a section. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


27 


He learned that there were from 34 to 36 men. 
two guns and limbers and two caissons and lim- 
bers to a platoon, 17 or 18 men and one gun and 
one caisson to a section, that there were 6 drivers 
and 6 cannoneers to each section and two non- 
commissioned officers, besides extra drivers and 
cannoneers. He learned the duties of the Gun 
Corporal and the duties of the various positions 
from No. 1 to No. 5 which was his position and 
the extra cannoneers who ranged up to No. 10. 

These last details were learned by actual prac- 
tice, for sometime during each day drills were 
called on the caissons and field pieces and then 
with the gun in position ready for firing and the 
caisson lined up close by, the six men who served 
the gun would bend into position and execute 
the various movements necessary in serving the 
piece. As No. 5, Ray was to the extreme left of 
the caisson and it was his duty to pull the shells 
from their compartments and pass them to the 
man at his right known as No. 4, who set the 
shell with a tiny instrument by means of which 
the fuse inside the nose of the projectile was 
shortened or lengthened if it was a time charge. 
Then it was passed immediately to No. 2 to his 
right who slipped it gingerly into thebreech, while 
No. 1 slams home the breech block and locks it 
and the Gunner prepared to fire. For a time the 
work of No. 3 man puzzled him until he found 


28 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


that he was there to keep the fuse setter scales 
set at the proper range and corrector ordered. 

But that there was far more to the manipula- 
tions of the field piece than just the mechanics, 
Ray could perceive at a glance. The really hard 
jobs were those of the Gunner or Gun Corporal 
and No. I who sat astride tiny iron seats on 
either side of the breech of the piece behind the 
high steel shield, and by means of quadrant, level- 
ers and clinometer, held the gun on the target. 

Aside from the men who did range finding 
and the other intricate details of effectively oper- 
ating the battery, the work of the Gunner and 
No. i was the hardest and by far the most inter- 
esting, and those were the positions that Ray 
immediately cast covetous eyes upon. Some day, 
he told himaelf, he meant to be behind the steel 
shield of a gun, actually firing it. But he little 
suspected how long it would be or through how 
many adventures he would pass ere he gained 
that pinnacle that he had set his heart on already. 

Besides serving the gun there were dozens of 
other things he became familiar with such as 
camp details, sanitation, a knowledge of horses, 
and similar subjects, many of which he was not 
really required to learn but of which he acquired 
a knowledge purely through a desire to know 
every detail. 

So busy was Ray with all these things that 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


29 


day after day slipped by and before he realized 
it he had forgotten all about the bank and the 
banking course at Columbia, about the kiddies 
in the settlement house and everything else save 
his mother and father. He was too busy to be 
fretted by anything, and if he had sacrificed the 
companionship of a lot of good fellows outside, 
he found new friends who proved to be just as 
fine among the men of the battery. There was 
Tommy Wrenn, a freshman from Princeton, who 
had given up college to join the Battery; there 
was Buck Cassidy, an old Emerson Hall man 
whom Ray had known four years before, and 
there was Corporal Scotty Arbuckle, a big pow- 
erful Westerner and Gunner for the first section 
of J Battery, to which Ray was assigned. With 
Scotty on the gun, was Bud Falkner, No. i man, 
while Buck Cassidy was at No. 2, Chet Warren 
at No. 3 and Tommy Wrenn working beside Ray 
at No. 4. There were, however, seven other men 
to the section including Caisson Corporal Nor- 
man. 

All were the type of fellows Ray had been ac- 
customed to associating with, save perhaps Chet 
Warren, who had about him the suggestion of 
a snob, being quite unable to make friends read- 
ily, preserving a certain aloofness which had 
made him not at all popular with the rest of the 
men of the section. Scotty referred to him as 


3a 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


“The Dude,” while Buck Cassidy with ready 
Irish wit and a wholesome disrespect for any- 
thing that savored of snobbishness, took every 
occasion to crack a joke at his expense. 

“Oh,” said Cassidy to Ray one day when Chet 
was the subject of conversation, “he’s white, has 
two feet and two hands like the rest of us, and 
possibly he has a bit of brain concealed about his 
person some place. He’s a hard worker too — 
sometimes,” he grinned, “but that’s about all we 
can say for him yet. We took him for better or 
for worse, and as the preacher says, I guess we’ll 
have to keep an eye on him till we find out which 
way he’s skiddin’ but if its only uppishness that’s 
the matter with him we’ll soon take that out of 
him when we get into camp.” 

“When we get into camp,” repeated Ray, “and 
when do you suppose that is going to happen ?” 

Buck shrugged his shoulders. 

“Search me. We’ve been waiting for orders 
for three weeks now and they haven’t come 
through yet. Looks like we might have to wait 
a month or two more.” 

But Buck’s pessimistic guess was proved 
wrong a very few hours afterward for that same 
day the Battery was electrified by word from 
Captain Blanchard’s office that the outfit should 
prepare to move at a few hours’ notice. 

“Who is going to move?” 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 31 

"Where are we going to move to?” 

"When do we go?” 

Such were the questions that were shot at 
Sergeant Brush when he passed the orders on to 
his section. 

"I don't know a thing more than what I’ve 
told you,” he said testily, "and I don't care where 
or how or who or anything else. I'm only glad 
we are going.” 

"That's our idea,” echoed half a dozen, and 
forthwith everyone turned to, to make final prep- 
arations for leaving the armory. 

But hours dragged on. Transports were 
loaded and waiting, everything was lashed or 
strapped fast to caissons and limbers, kits were 
packed and stowed away, and by evening the 
fellows were all ready and cooling their heels on 
the tan bark impatiently waiting for further 
orders. 

They came in the form of a disappointment. 

"Proceed as usual. Permit the men who are 
not scheduled to remain at the armory to return 
home for the night. Battery will move some 
time tomorrow,” were the instructions passed on 
by Sergeant Brush. A groan echoed through the 
dome-roofed structure, for every fellow in the 
Battery was alert and on his toes, and they were 
all disappointed at being let down for another 
day. 


32 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


“Shucks, we’ll never get under way,” said Ray 
to Buck and Scotty as they left the armory. 

“Oh, I don’t know young feller. Like’s not 
we’ll be tripping along tomorrow. Best to say 
good-by tonight,” said Scotty. 

And to be on the safe side Ray did say good- 
by fondly and affectionately next morning. 

It was well that he did, too, for when he 
reached the armory he found a knot of anxious 
mothers and fathers and sweethearts waiting 
outside and the men who were at the armory were 
working their hardest. 

Ray got inside to learn that the Battery would 
move immediately. He was the last to report at 
his section and with his arrival all was ready to 
move so far as their little group was concerned. 
But other sections were a little slower in picking 
up odds and ends and it was nine o’clock when 
the bugle sounded “harness” and the prancing 
teams were brought in and hooked up to field 
pieces and caissons. 

That bugle, its blaring notes echoing and re- 
echoing through the armory, thrilled Ray as he 
had never been thrilled before. They were off! 
Where they were going no one knew, but certain 
it was that they were going to be a little nearer 
France when they next came to rest. 

Officers on spanking mounts, pranced into the 
drill arena and orders began to fly thick and fast. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 33 

Soon the bugle blared again and the men, keyed 
up to the highest pitch of excitement, bounded 
to their seats on the gun carriages, caissons and 
limbers. Then came the crisp command, shouted 
above the clanking of chains, the snorting and 
stamping of horses and the shouts of men: 

“Forwar-r-r-d M-ar-r-ch!” called Captain 
Blanchard giving the command with the pre- 
scribed wave of his arm, as artillery commands 
are always given when a Battery is in action or 
on the move. 

Once again the bugle sounded its crisp notes, 
and then with a prodigious rattle and clank, with 
the stamp of hoofs, the rattle of chains and a 
suppressed cheer from the men, the big double 
doors at the side of the armory were thrown open 
and J Battery filed slowly out into the streets of 
Brooklyn on the first lap of that long journey 
“Over There.” 

“Where are we bound for?” asked one man 
of another. But no one knew and therefore no 
one could give a definite answer. 

“Fm guessing with the rest of you,” said Ser- 
geant Brush. 

“Well, what’s your guess, Sergeant?” asked 
Cassidy when the officer moved over beside him 
in the line of march. 

“What — er — why, I heard something about 
going to Prattsburgh, but— but— aw, Pm telling 


34 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


things, I’m afraid. You ginks just keep your 
eyes open and you’ll know as much as I do in a 
little while.” 

The Sergeant winked knowingly at Cassidy 
and Cassidy passed the wink along. They were 
going to Prattsburgh, that was certain, but why ? 
What for? It was all a mystery. 

Down through the city between streets lined 
with cheering men and women the battery rattled 
on its way. Great crowds turned out to say 
farewell to the first of the Brooklyn boys to leave 
for camp, and what an ovation they received. It 
was good; it was thrilling; it made Ray tingle 
from head to heels to know that he, with the rest, 
was being so loudly cheered. It meant a lot; a 
great deal. It put pep and backbone into them. 

A dozen blocks from the armory, the battery 
turned into a widely paved thoroughfare that led 
toward the Manhattan Bridge. Here Ray sud- 
denly discovered a dog trailing along directly be- 
hind his caisson. It was a scraggly haired, un- 
kempt looking little animal that was more Aire- 
dale than anything else. But apparently the dog 
did not care who or what he was for he just 
ambled along contentedly in the rear of the sec- 
tion, sometimes running under the caisson and 
trotting along like a coach dog, and sometimes 
lagging behind just a little and looking proudly 
about. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


35 


“Look whose here/’ cried Tommy Wrenn when 
he discovered the dog. 

“I’ve been watching him for fifteen minutes. 
He seems to have adopted us — guess he's a new 
recruit," said Ray. 

“Let’s get hold of him. See if we can get him 
up here with us and we’ll take him along. He 
would make a dandy mascot," said Tommy. 

Ray thought that a good idea and he chirped to 
the dog. The little' fellow looked up at him and 
Ray began to pat his knee. For one brief moment 
the dog looked at him searchingly, as much as 
to say, “Do you mean it?" — then with a run and 
a bound he jumped up on to the moving caisson 
and landed squarely in Ray’s lap. 

“Here, wedge him between us so the Sergeant 
can’t see him and perhaps we’ll be able to hang 
on to him until we get to wherever we are going," 
said someone. So the little fuzzy dog sat down 
on the caisson seat between them, and while the 
fellows held him there he looked out upon the 
cheering crowds with apparently just as much 
pride as if he were dressed in khaki and was a 
real soldier too. 

Over the long arching bridge they rumbled and 
through the streets of Manhattan where huge 
crowds paused to cheer them on their way. Block 
after block was passed. Soon the lower business 
section was left behind and the cavalcade rattled 


36 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


its way through residential sections. On and on 
they pushed, until the street signs began to read 
in the hundreds. Then a sharp turn to the west 
was made and before long the battery was rum- 
bling into a big railroad yard where lines of D. 
& D. cars stood on a siding. 

“It’s Prattsburgh, sure enough,” said Ray 
when he saw this, “and I wonder what we can 
be going up to the Officers’ Training Camp for?” 

“Huh, simple enough now. I can see it all. 
We’ll be stationed up there for the young officers 
to learn how to handle artillery. Shucks, what a 
detail. It makes me sick. We’ll probably be 
stuck there all summer.” 

Ray’s, spirits fell too, when he heard what 
Tommy had to say, for somehow he had expected 
that they would be shifted to a mobilized camp 
immediately. To be sent up to Prattsburgh 
seemed to be shifting them further away from 
France, if anything. 

However, he did not have long to feel down- 
hearted for there was too much work to do. The 
train had to be loaded and that was enough for 
the present at least. Confusion seemed to reign 
in the railroad yard for a time, for prancing 
horses, shouting men, rattling transport wagons 
and clanking caissons and field pieces seemed to 
be jammed together in a confused mass. Orders 
began to fly thick and fast, however, and pres- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


37 


ently system emerged from the turmoil. Swiftly 
the teams were unharnessed, the horses loaded 
aboard the horse cars, the harness stowed away 
and the doors locked. In like manner, caissons 
and field pieces were shifted aboard flat cars and 
made secure by perspiring and hard working 
men in khaki who swarmed everywhere. Trans- 
portation wagons, field kitchens and the rest of 
the outfit were loaded on other cars and in a sur- 
prisingly short time the battery had entrained. 

In all the hurry and bustle, Ray and Tommy 
had forgotten all about the dog. Several times 
men had stumbled over him as he dodged here and 
there through the tangle of legs, and twice offi- 
cers had shouted at him and tried to chase him 
out of the railroad yard but each time he returned 
and through the press of men and things some- 
how managed to find Tommy or Ray. 

And finally when the last bit of luggage was 
stowed away and the men were commanded to 
enter their own cars, who should come trotting 
along with the rest but the fuzzy brown and 
black Airedale. 

“Crackey, look who is still with us,” exclaimed 
Ray, as he settled down in a wicker car seat and 
beheld the dog squirming his way down the aisle 
among the men in an effort to get near him. 

“By George, he sticks, don’t he? Say, Ray, 
let's make a bed for him under the seat. He can 


38 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


hide there until we get to Prattsburgh,” said 
Tommy. 

“Here you are, Spike, or whatever your name 
is, you stick under here and no one will bother 
you if you keep quiet.” 

Spike, as Ray had dubbed him, because his 
stump of a tail looked so much like a railroad 
spike, seemed to understand, for he kept very 
quiet indeed and had it not been revealed by a 
humorous little incident his presence would never 
have been known to anyone in the train. 

The long train ride soon began to get weari- 
some for the men. They grew tired of singing, 
playing jokes on each other, and general rough- 
house, and slowly they settled down. But after 
a time they grew hungry. In the hurry and 
bustle to leave the armory many of the fellows 
had gone without breakfast entirely, and those 
who were fortunate enough to have been able 
to eat at home, of which Ray was one, also began 
to feel a keen edge on their appetites after the 
noon hour had passed. 

Little had been done in the way of providing 
food on board the train, and some fellows sensing 
this in advance, had bought sandwiches and 
pieces of pie and smuggled them aboard before 
the train left. Chet Warren was one of these, 
though he really had not had forethought enough 
to get them himself. An indulgent sister and 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


39 


mother and father who had traveled all the way 
to the railroad yard in a limousine, had brought 
a most elaborate luncheon for him, and had given 
him the box containing it just before the train 
pulled out. 

The result was that when twelve o’clock came, 
he, with a few other fortunates, really had some- 
thing to eat. Regardless of the rest of the fel- 
lows of the section, Chet produced his lunch-box, 
and of course when it became evident all the fel- 
lows of the first section who were seated together 
at one end of the car, emitted a loud yell and 
crowded about him. 

But it was quite evident that Chet was not of 
a generous nature, nor did he like particularly 
his sudden popularity. 

“Aw, say, you fellows, I can’t divide this 
among all of you. There isn’t enough. Why 
didn’t you get some lunch for yourselves?” he 
protested. 

Immediately after he was sorry he had spoken 
so selfishly, for the fellows stopped their good- 
natured shouting and pushing and shoving, and 
returned to their seats with grunts of disgust, 
and it was evident to all including Chet that he 
had made himself more unpopular than ever with 
the men of the section. 

But Buck Cassidy, his Irish temper and desire 
for horse-play getting the better of him, could 


40 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


not stand to see such an enormous luncheon de- 
voured by such an apparently unappreciative 
fellow as Chet, so presently when the car rounded 
a curve, Buck who was standing in the aisle 
waiting for just such an occasion, staggered and 
fell headlong into Chet’s lap and of course in the 
mix-up the lunch box went spinning to the floor. 

With a yell, half a dozen fellows swooped down 
upon the scattered contents and Chet and Cassidy 
untangling themselves joined in the scramble. 
When the fracas was over everyone at his end 
of the car save Chet, possessed a sandwich or an 
apple or a piece of cake, all a bit mussy to be 
sure but still edible. 

Chet was in a frenzy. He glared about and 
stuttered and stammered in his rage but his 
angry looks were met with broad grins on every 
side. Suddenly Chet caught sight of a single 
remaining sandwich lying partly hidden beside 
the seat in which Ray and Tommy sat. Eagerly 
he made a dive for it. But before he could reach 
it, a brown and black fuzzy dog dodged out from 
under the seat, seized the sandwich and dodged 
back again where he calmly devoured it. 

A half dozen fellows saw the incident and a 
roar of good natured laughter went up from 
everyone. Chet was wild. The spoiled boy that 
he had been all his life, to be treated in that 
fashion was too much for him. He was furious 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


41 


and as Spike darted under the seat he aimed a 
vicious kick at the innocent animal, the point of 
his shoe thumping against the dog’s ribs with a 
resounding bump that made the dog howl with 
pain. 

Immediately the good-natured laughter stop- 
ped. For a moment an ominous silence reigned. 
Anger flamed in the faces of Ray and Tommy 
and several other fellows of the section, and it 
looked for a moment as if Chet was going to re- 
ceive the trouncing he deserved right there. 

“You big boob — I — I — for two cents I’d thrash 
you within an inch of your life, ,, cried Cassidy 
thoroughly enraged. 

“Say, you don’t belong in the battery. You 
belong in the cradle, you big baby,” roared the 
ponderous Scotty who was as thoroughly in- 
censed as the rest. 

As for Ray and Tommy they said nothing. 
Both glared at Chet until he became thoroughly 
uncomfortable, and with a muttered grumble 
about rowdies and hoodlums, he took his seat 
and sulked for the rest of the trip. And that 
little unpleasantness, trivial though it was, served 
to put a damper on the rest of the journey. There 
was little or no fun at the upper end of the car 
for a long time. 


42 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


CHAPTER IV. 

CAMPING AT PRATTSBURGH. 

It was evening when the long, slow-moving 
troop train finally reached its destination and 
with a great snorting and puffing of engines was 
shunted onto the long siding that had been run 
out toward the big reservation where several 
thousands of young men were just going into 
training to become officers in the big new Na- 
tional Army that Uncle Sam was about to con- 
struct. 

Stiff, tired, hungry, but in good spirits the 
men tumbled out of their cramped seats and 
swarmed along the railroad siding. But they 
were soon given plenty of opportunity to stretch 
their cramped muscles for horses and equipment 
must needs be unloaded immediately. 

They turned to with a will, for they realized 
that the quicker they got things into shape again 
the quicker they would get their first square meal 
that day. In far less time than it took to load 
them, field pieces came rattling down the sloping 
gang-planks to the ground, and caissons and lim- 
bers following. Horses were hurried from their 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 43 

box cars, harness adjusted and inside of an hour, 
the battery was ready to move again. 

But before the command came to go forward, 
Lieutenant Ramsey, acting for Captain Blanch- 
ard, trotted his horse down the line of field pieces 
and caissons to run his eye over things in general. 
And of course the first thing he discoverel on 
inspecting the First Section, was Spike, silently 
waiting behind the caisson on which Tommy and 
Ray were sitting. 

When he stopped and stared at the dog, Spike 
returned the stare, and began to wag his stumpy 
tail, and show his teeth in a regular dog grin. 

“Well ril be jiggered, I could be almost cer- 
tain I kicked that dog out of the railroad yard 
this morning. To whom does he belong ?” he 
snapped, turning to Ray. 

“I don’t know, sir,” truthfully said Ray. 

“Well how did he get here?” 

“On the train, sir,” said Ray. 

“Who brought him aboard?” 

“I don’t know, sir. Guess he came aboard 
himself.” 

The Lieutenant looked angry. 

“Well he can’t stay,” he snapped. “Get out, 
sir. Go out — go — git on you.” He began to 
flourish his arms, and Spike, quite downcast and 
with as much of his :- tump of a tail between his 
legs as he could get there, scampered away. 


44 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


“Shucks,” said Ray disgustedly under his 
breath. 

But from the limber ahead came a mean sort 
of a snicker from Chet, who was apparently 
pleased to see Spike chased away. 

“Quit your gloating, you big boob,” called 
Cassidy, angrily, as he glared resentfully at Chet. 

Suddenly the order came to move, and with 
harness chains clanking, and wheels rumbling 
the heavy field pieces trundled and rattled for- 
ward. But, the first section had hardly gotten 
under way again when, behold, who should ap- 
pear behind Ray’s caisson but Spike. 

“Well the little jigger. He’s back,” exclaimed 
Ray. 

“Yes,” said Tommy, “but he’ll get us into 
trouble before we are through with him, you wait 
and see.” 

Fifteen minutes later the Battery had rolled 
into its appointed place on the reservation. Then 
the field pieces and caissons were packed, the 
horses unharnessed and picketed and soon after 
the men were pitching tents, digging ditches and 
constructing their camp. Meanwhile the field 
kitchens at the end of each street were sending 
forth a cloud of blue woodsmoke, while kettles 
of beef stew, potatoes, rice and beans simmered 
merrily, and gave forth an appetizing odor. 

It was long after retreat, when supper was 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


45 


served that evening, but although it was late Ray 
and Tommy and everyone else ate heartily sev- 
eral generous helpings. And of course Spike 
turned up just at the proper time to share some 
of the victuals. Indeed every man of the section 
contributed a piece of meat or a piece of bread 
dipped in gravy to his meal, and the little brown 
and black dog was literally stuffed with food 
when the fellows were finished and ready to join 
the dish washing line that formed over near the 
watch fire, where steaming cans of water waited 
in which they could plunge their mess kits. 

There was little need for taps to be sounded 
that night, for nearly every fellow was curled 
up in his blanket and sound asleep before ten 
o’clock, and out in the battery park, underneath 
the caisson of the first section, the horse guards 
saw a fuzzy brown shape curl up against one of 
the wheels and go to sleep too. Spike’s dog sense 
seemed to tell him that it was best for him to be 
as inconspicuous as possible, and not try and gain 
admission to the tent in which Ray and Tommy 
and the other men of the section were quartered. 
Instead he remained on post underneath the sec- 
tion caisson. 

Hard work and long drills began in earnest 
the very next morning, and from then on for 
weeks, the days were divided into one period after 
another of the hardest kind of work that Ray and 


4 G BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

the rest of his friends in the battery had ever 
tried save Scotty, perhaps, who had been born 
and brought up in the Northwest among the lum- 
ber camps of Oregon, and who was a giant in 
strength and endurance, and quite used to hard 
w'ork. 

From dawn until darkness, almost every day, 
the battery did nothing but drill, drill, drill, and 
all this was for the double benefit of the student 
officers at the reservation and for the men of the 
battery themselves who realized that only with 
constant practice could they become expert 
enough to fit in with the fighting men “Over 
There.” 

Day after day hours were spent in constant 
practice at serving the field piece, while more 
time was given to instructions in the mechanism 
of shells, powder charges, trajectory, deflection, 
and a host of other things that artillerymen 
should know. Then there were periods of drill- 
ing at bringing the guns into action. Often for 
miles the battery would trundle along lonesome 
dusty country roads, to reach a designated place 
and come into action at the quickest possible 
time. These particular periods of drilling were 
extremely interesting, for always there was a 
snap and pep to the business of coming into 
action that gave real zest to the work. 

Orders would come from Captain Blanchard 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


4? 


that hill Number so-and-so, was to be shelled. 
The battery was to come into action at a desig- 
nated point. Then a forced march would begin, 
the horses galloping over the road, dragging the 
careening field pieces and caissons at top speed 
raising a terrible cloud of dust and rattling 
through villages and hamlets at breakneck speed. 
Then they would tear through an unplanted field 
perhaps, and frequently on two wheels swing into 
position, under the brow of a hill, there to un- 
limber, take position and begin firing. 

Always up to the point of firing it was inter- 
esting. But after that it somehow lost its pep 
for only dummy cartridges were used and the old 
field pieces would emit nothing but a hollow click 
each time the landyard was pulled. 

'‘Rats, it isn’t any fun to be disappointed every 
time,” said Tommy one day. “I always listen to 
hear the old dog bark out a regular roar but all 
I ever hear is the same click-click. Why don’t 
they give us some real ammunition; some that 
has enough powder in it to make a noise any- 
how? There would be something to that.” 

But in due time they did get a few shells, 
blanks of course, but capable of making a little 
noise. These furnished diversion for a while. 

Still later on they actually had practice at firing 
real explosive shells and then it was that Ray 
got his first conception of the destructive work 


48 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


that a three inch projectile can do when it bursts. 
He saw holes torn in the side of a mountain big 
enough to hold a span of horses, and he realized 
then that it was not going to be very much fun 
being in the vicinity of one when it burst. 

The constant drilling, however, was relieved 
a great deal by diversions of one kind and an- 
other. Baseball teams were formed, and some 
lively games were played between the battery 
nines and teams composed of young officers in 
training. Also games were played with teams 
from towns in the vicinity such as Pittsburgh, 
Keyesville and other communities, and with the 
teams from the Regular Army outfits that were 
stationed at the reservation of which there were 
several units. 

The training camp was really a very interest- 
ing place, for besides the big cantonment in 
which the young officers were being trained, there 
were regular army barracks occupied by a troop 
of cavalrymen, and several companies of infan- 
try; the infantry being a very famous outfit that 
had seen service in the Philippines and had spent 
five years in Alaska. These organizations all 
had cracking good baseball teams and men capa- 
ble of doing mighty well in all manner of ath- 
letics. Ray, Tommy and Scotty frequently went 
over to their part of the reservation to “look ’em 
over” and they always came back with the im- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


49 


pression that they were the finest bunch of men 
they had ever come in contact with. 

Spike frequently went over to that section of 
the big camp too to “look over” several mascots 
that belonged to the cavalry outfit and he always 
came back with an ear or a foot considerably 
chewed up, but with that pleased expression that 
said plainer than words, “I may look bad but he 
looks worse. I left him in the hospital.” Indeed, 
Spike soon gained a reputation over at the Regu- 
lar Army barracks for his fighting ability, for he 
managed to make every dog over there take to 
his heels. 

Life for Spike during the weeks at Pitts- 
burgh was full of trials and tribulations. Al- 
most every other day Lieutenant Ramsey would 
run across him somewhere about the camp, and 
try his hardest to chase him away. Spike always 
knew enough to run somewhere and hide, but he 
always turned up again at supper time. 

“Blast that dog,” said the Lieutenant on sev- 
eral occasions. “I just can't get rid of him, 
and the funny part of it is no one seems to own 
him over here. I suspect you fellows all coax 
him to stay.” He shot a meaning look at Ray 
and Tommy as he spoke and they could not help 
but grin. 

Yet in spite of the Lieutenant’s efforts Spike 
still stayed around. He was the chum of every 


50 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


fellow in the section, and the especial companion 
of Ray and Tommy. He was a wise little dog, 
too, and he seemed to know when it was better 
for him to be out of sight. He had dog sense 
enough to be somewhere else when the battery 
was drilling for instance or when any military 
function was being held or anything else of im- 
portance was happening. Spike always seemed 
to try not to be in the way. 

Ray and Tommy grew especially fond of him 
and so did every other man of the section save 
Chet Warren. But there came a day when even 
he was glad that the little fellow was about. 

It all happened one hot Saturday afternoon in 
June, when fatiguing duty was finished and when 
most of the fellows of the section had the remain- 
der of the afternoon to themselves. 

Tommy, Ray, Scotty and Buck Cassidy were 
sitting in the shade of a field piece over in the 
battery park debating just what they should 
do that afternoon and the following day, for all 
of them had leave for thirty-six hours. Spike, as 
usual, was nearby but as inconspicuous as pos- 
sible. He was curled up under the spade of the 
gun, snoring contentedly. 

“Aw, I’m getting tired of these cold shower 
baths, by way of getting clean. I’m going down 
to the lake for a swim,” said Scotty. “Then I'm 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


51 


coming back to put on a fresh uniform and I’m 
going into Prattsburgh.” 

“That’s the most sensible suggestion that any- 
one has made yet, I’m for a swim too. A little 
Lake Champlain water will put some pep into 
us,” said Ray. 

“Well, I’m with you,” yawned Buck, stretching 
himself and getting up stiffly. 

“Little water wouldn’t be bad for me either,” 
said Tommy with a grin. 

And Spike, although he did not know what was 
going to happen, got up and stretched and 
yawned too. His four companions were going 
somewhere and he was quite sure from their atti- 
tude that they were not going to drills, so he 
guessed he would go along. 

With bathing suits procured from their tent, 
the four fellows from the section started down 
the reservation. Soon they reached the road that 
led down the lake shore toward their favorite 
swimming place. Then like school boys they 
broke into a run, and with yells of enthusiasm 
they raced for the shore, beginning to undress as 
they went. Spike raced along ahead making as 
much noise as the rest, and by virtue of not hav- 
ing any clothes to shed, he was the first into the 
water. 

He swam about chasing sticks and having a 
glorious time while the four young artillerymen 


52 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


on the bank were getting ready for their plunge. 
Soon the whole party was overboard and having 
a great time in the cool water of the lake. But 
Spike, because he had been the first one in, was 
the first to grow tired of the swimming, so he 
splashed ashore, shook the water from his fuzzy 
coat and went about exploring things while his 
four friends were disporting themselves in the 
lake. 

How long he had been gone none of the fellows 
realized, but suddenly, from down the lake shore, 
around a wooded point, came a series of frantic 
yelps and barks, that caused Ray and Scotty to 
stop their noise and listen. 

“What’s into Spike. Just listen to him!” ex- 
claimed Ray. 

“Oh, I reckon he’s holed a rabbit or he is chas- 
ing sand-pipers,” said Scotty as he listened. 

“Shucks, no. There’s something the matter,” 
said Ray. 

Tommy and Buck were listening too. 

“Aw, let him alone. He has dog sense enough 
to get out of a scrape,” said Buck. 

But Tommy looked grave. 

“Say, Ray, the way he’s yelping and raising 
the dickens, I’m sure something’s up.” 

“I think so too,” said Ray, starting to wade 
ashore hurriedly. Then he added, “I’ll go. You 
fellows wait here.” 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


53 


Ray hastily pulled on his shoes, for he did not 
like the idea of a sprint over the stony shores of 
Lake Champlain, in bared feet. Then with shoe 
laces flopping about his ankles he started running 
toward the place where Spike was still barking. 

Presently he rounded the point, to discover 
Spike belly-deep in the water looking out from 
shore and barking hysterically the while. Ray 
glanced out, and was horrified, to see for the 
briefest moment a hand break the surface of the 
water, clutch for one agonizing instant at the va- 
cant air, and then disappear. Ray sensed it all 
in a moment. Someone was drowning. Some- 
one had gone beyond his depths, and but for 
Spike’s timely arrival and his frantic calls for 
help whoever it was would have perished unseen. 

Ray was all action in a moment. With a long 
loud yell for help from Scotty and the rest, he 
kicked off his shoes and plunged overboard. Mad- 
ly he dashed forward until he was in water deep 
enough to swim. Then he hurled himself ahead 
and began swimming swiftly with strong power- 
ful overhand strokes toward the spot where he 
had seen that horribly expressive hand break the 
surface of the water. And as he swam a hundred 
questions whirled through his brain. Who was it 
that was drowning? Was he too late? Was the 
man beyond help? Could he save him? 

He looked and looked and looked for that hand 


54 


BAEEAGE FIEE BARNES 


to come up again, but it never appeared. Soon 
he was hovering over the very spot where the chap 
had gone down. Like a seal he up-ended and 
dived beneath the clear water of the lake swim- 
ming down, down, down and peering about in the 
green depths for the helpless victim. Far below 
on the shadowy lake’s bottom he beheld a blurry 
white figure twisting slowly and gruesomely 
round and round with the action of the water. 
He shuddered when he beheld the sight and 
thought of the agonies that the poor fellow had 
passed through. 

Down he plunged still deeper. Down, down, 
down, his naked arms flashing in the green water, 
and great air bubbles of silver and emerald green 
rushed up past his face. The unconscious man 
lay apparently in a very deep hole for Ray found 
that holding his breath to swim to that depth was 
painful. Already his chest began to pain and his 
head to ache. 

Still he struggled downward. The inert, grue- 
some figure, was just below him. He reached out 
his hand to grasp the man, and his fingers slipped 
off the cold clammy flesh. Again he reached, 
struggling to get still closer. This time he 
hooked his fingers under the man’s arm. 

Then he turned, and kicking and struggling 
started toward the surface, dragging the dead 
weight after him. Far, far up overhead he saw 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


55 


the sunlight. It seemed a long, long distance 
away. Ray wondered whether he could make it. 
The sagging weight he carried made progress 
slow. He felt almost “all in” himself. The blood 
was pounding through his neck and into his brain. 
His head ached terrifically, his chest felt as if it 
were going to burst under the pressure of the 
pent-up air. It was a horrible sensation. 

But grimly he fought on, determined not to 
lose his grip on the man, and determined too, to 
make the surface if it were humanely possible. 
Up, up, up he kicked his way. The silvery bubbles 
that danced about him were big and grotesque. 
They looked like faces leering at him. He shook 
off the feeling of horror that seemed to possess 
him and struggled even harder. 

And when it seemed as if he could not hold his 
breath a single moment longer, and that he was 
going to perish with the man he was trying to 
save, he broke through the surface into the fresh, 
free air and gulped in breath after breath, in huge 
gasps. 

He was dizzy and weak and hardly knew what 
he was doing. But fortunately, strong hands 
seized him, and some one else relieved him of the 
burden he was dragging after him. Then some- 
how, resting most of his weight on the shoulders 
of Tommy, he got ashore while Scotty and Buck 
Cassidy brought in the inert and apparently life- 


56 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


less body he had gone through so much to rescue. 

Once on his feet in shallow water Ray’s head 
cleared quickly, and he and Tommy were both 
able to help carry the limp form ashore and to 
their amazement when they laid him down and 
brushed the hair from his eyes they discovered 
that they had rescued Chet Warren the snob and 
member of their own section. 

“By crackey, it’s Warren,” exclaimed Cassidy 
in amazement. 

“So it is. Is he gone? Are there any signs of 
life?” asked Ray, feeling the cold wrist. 

He waited a moment, and the rest were silent. 

“I think — yes — I’m sure I felt a pulsation,” 
said Ray. “Quick fellows, get the water out of 
him and start first aid.” 

Hastily they carried Chet to a little knoll of 
grass near the shore line. Here the four of them 
got to work. First they emptied as much water 
out of him as would run free from his mouth and 
nose then they turned him face downward. Then 
turning him on his back they began their first aid 
work. 

Ceaselessly and tirelessly they labored, seek- 
ing to start respiration by artificial means, a trick 
which every soldier knows. They worked and 
worked and worked and when one grew tired 
another took his place. For half an hour they 
kept it up, pumping Chet’s arms up and down. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 57 

working the chest muscles and the lungs inside. 
After a long and anxious period of waiting they 
were rewarded by seeing a slight color come into 
his cheeks, then a faint beating of his heart was 
perceptible and a few minutes later his eyelids be- 
gan to twitch. 

Encouraged by these signs the boys worked 
harder and harder and soon they had Warren 
quite conscious but a bit dazed. It was only a 
matter of a few minutes after that, however, be- 
fore he became himself to the point of recognizing 
the fellows about him and recalling his experience. 

“Ugh,” he shuddered, “what horrors I’ve gone 
through. You fellows can never realize what a 
sensation it is to be drowning, I — I — Oh, it’s ter- 
rible.” 

“I'll bet it is,” said Ray, realizing the mental 
agony he had been in for a very brief period. 

“How in the world did it happen, Warren?” 
asked Scotty. 

“Why — why — well, you see I can’t swim — I — 
aw, I can’t do anything a real fellow can do. I 
decided I’d come down here alone and try and 
learn to swim today. You see I can go a stroke 
or two but that is all. I waded in and started to 
swim a little bit, but when I couldn’t go on any 
further I felt for bottom, and it wasn’t there. I 
went down, down, down, and I thought my end 
had come. Ugh — I can’t talk of it, the thoughts 


58 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


are horrible, I never want to see water again.” 

“Well, it was mighty close,” said Buck. “If 
it hadn’t been for Spike and Ray here you 
wouldn’t be among those present right now.” 

Chet shuddered again, and looked at Spike, who 
stood nearby eyeing him interestedly. Then he 
looked at Ray and smiled sheepishly. “I — I — of 
course I don’t know how to thank you, Barnes.” 

“Oh, shucks, that’s all right. The pup here 
started the whole business. If it hadn’t been for 
him you sure would have been a goner.” 

“But, how did it happen, Warren? Did you 
wade out and try to swim in or did you swim out 
from shore instead?” asked Scotty. 

“Why — why — I made the fool mistake of just 
wading in and trying to swim. I swam out from 
shore, of course, like a big boob.” 

“You poor fish,” said Buck sarcastically. 

“Poor fish is right,” said Chet soberly, where- 
upon everyone laughed and Spike barked, because 
everyone else was making a noise. 

That ended Chet’s swimming lessons, however, 
for he crawled into his uniform with the help of 
the rest of the fellows, and went on back to camp, 
while Ray and Tommy and the rest went back to 
where they had undressed. 

Chet walked back with them but he was mighty 
weak and unhappy looking. He waited until the 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


59 


rest got dressed but when they were ready he. 
urged them away from the lake shore. 

“Honestly, I never want to see another body of 
water again. Now I know I will never learn to 
swim because I’ll never have nerve enough to go 
overboard again,” he assured the fellows. But if 
he had known then what he would have to face 
later he would have put aside all fear and bent 
every effort toward learning how to take care of 
himself in the water. 


60 


BARRAGE EIRE BARNES 


CHAPTER V. 

“skvsnty-eives.” 

Life at the camp ran on with the usual routine 
during the months of June, July and August, and 
meanwhile big events were taking place in other 
sections of the country. The Rainbow Division 
had been formed and sent away to camp, plans 
were under way for a huge National Army, ten 
million men had been registered in the country 
for military service, billions of dollars were being 
raised in Liberty Loans, and the National Guard 
had all been mobilized and slowly division after 
division was being sent South for training, and 
then one fine day the several thousand young men 
at Prattsburgh, and the many thousands at simi- 
lar training camps throughout the country were 
graduated as full fledged officers. 

On the heels of this came the news to the bat- 
tery camp at Prattsburgh that the National 
Guard of the State had been formed into a divi- 
sion and was being shifted southward. 

“There, just as I expected,” said Buck Cassidy 
when the news reached Prattsburgh, “There are 
all the rest of the fellows being shifted South and 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 61 

here we are stuck up on the edge of Champlain, 
probably to stay here until the end of the war, so 
that some of these rookie officers can learn what 
a three-inch gun looks like. Rats, we should be 
going South too. Those fellows will get some 
hard training down there and probably be sent off 
to France in a jiffy while we cool our Feels up 
here the rest of the summer and probably all 
winter/' 

“Say, you're a cheerful short horn," said Cor- 
poral Scotty. 

“Well, I bet I'm right," said Buck. 

“Aw, you are always on the wrong side of a 
bet anyhow," returned Scotty, and now that I 
know how you feel about it I'm satisfied. I say 
we'll move out of here inside of a week." 

But the week slipped on and it began to look 
as if the Corporal had missed his guess too. The 
same old routine drilling was experienced and 
everything went on as usual about the camp, and 
the fellows, knowing that all the guardsmen from 
their own state and that batteries from their own 
artillery regiment had gone south, began to feel 
discontented. 

But encouraging news came on Friday morn- 
ing from the men who had been on guard duty the 
night before. These fellows told of a big empty 
troop train. “The train was even then on the 


62 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


long siding at the end of the reservation,” they 
said. 

“Honestly, is there a troop train on the sid- 
ing?” asked Tommy. 

“Huh, if there is, it’s probably to move that 
company of Regulars,” said Cassidy. 

“Aw, quit your pessimism,” snapped Scotty. 

“Well you see if I'm not right,” retorted Cas- 
sidy gloomily. 

But Cassidy was wrong again. Mess was 
hardly over when orders came for the battery to 
prepare for departure. 

“Wow, I told you, you big short horn you!” 
cried Corporal Scotty, giving Cassidy a slap on 
the back. 

And Cassidy grinned by way of showing that 
he was glad he was wrong. 

Once more everything was hustle and bustle 
about the battery camp. The fellows began to 
pack up their personal belongings first, and while 
they were thus occupied, Scotty appeared in the 
tent doorway with a sorry grin on his face. 

“Say, fellows, something's wrong somehow.” 

“Why, what do you mean ?” demanded Ray. 

“Orders have just come through that we don't 
strike camp. We just pack up and move.” 

“What?” exclaimed Buck Cassidy. 

“Yep, we leave tents, field pieces and horses be- 
hind. We just pack up our beds and move.” 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 63 

“Aw, go \vay. You can’t give us that. What 
do you mean? Do you think they are going to 
make dough-boys of us — foot-soldiers?” asked 
Buck. 

“Search me,” said Scotty crisply, but he looked 
mighty glum. 

Sure enough those were the orders. Sergeant 
Brush instructed the men to pack all personal be- 
longings, to leave their tents standing and be pre- 
pared to move at a moment’s notice. Then Lieu- 
tenant Ramsey came through the camp street, and 
confirmed the order. 

When he reached the tent occupied by the fel- 
lows of the first section he looked inside. 

“Get a hustle on, you fellows,” he said, good- 
naturedly. Then he stopped short and looked a 
bit angry, for he discovered Spike coming around 
from the back of the tent. 

“There’s that bloomin’ pup again. Well I guess 
we’ll lose him this time. He’ll stay with the horses, 
that’s certain. And believe me, I’m going to 
watch the cars to see that he don’t get aboard of 
his own accord. Hustle now, fellows. Some pep.” 

Ray looked at Tommy and Tommy looked at 
Ray after the officer had gone, then they both 
looked at Spike who had come into the tent ap- 
parently to inquire about what was going on. 

“Do we leave Spike?” asked Ray. 


64 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

“Looks like well have to,” said Tommy rue- 
fully. 

“Shucks, it’s too bad we can't have a mascot,” 
said Corporal Scotty who had grown very fond of 
Spike. All the fellows of the section looked put 
out too, and they all petted the fuzzy little dog as 
he wandered about the tent, even Chet Warren 
giving him an affectionate pat, and a box of su- 
gared cookies that he found tucked away under 
his cot, and forgotten. 

Five minutes later the bugle sounded, and in a 
jiffy the entire battery turned out of the tents, 
and with big bulging blue cotton barrack bags, 
that were almost as large as the men themselves, 
slung over their shoulders, they fell into line. 

“Right-by-squads. Forward ho!” came the 
command and the line began to move. 

There was just a suggestion of homesickness in 
the feeling that Ray had as he looked backward at 
the camp he was leaving. He wondered whether 
it was because he was parting with Spike whom 
he had learned to think a lot of, or whether it was 
because he was leaving familiar scenes. Where 
was Spike? He looked back several times but 
could see nothing of the usually conspicuous pup. 

But Ray was not the only one who felt glum. 
There were some among those fellows who were 
distinctly heartbroken at leaving. They were the 
drivers. Through months of caring for the horses 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


65 


they had become very fond of the animals and 
many an unhappy glance was sent toward the re- 
mount stables, where the horses were now being 
kept. 

As the sentry had assured them, the troop train 
was on the siding, and this time there was little 
confusion about the entraining of the battery, for 
there were no heavy field pieces, and awkward 
horses to be loaded. The men merely climbed 
aboard, hung their barrack bags on the hooks over 
the car windows, selected their seats and tumbled 
into them. And five minutes later with whistle 
screeching, the train began to move. Where they 
were going the fellows were not absolutely cer- 
tain, but rumor had it that they were off for the 
South. 

But were they going South to be converted into 
infantry or would they remain artillery after all? 
That was the question that caused all of them a 
lot of worry. 

On rolled the train down the lake shore, headed 
New Yorkward, and the fellows were very quiet 
with all their thoughts. Ray’s mind was teeming 
with a lot of things, and he felt quite sad too, sad 
particularly about leaving Spike. Indeed his mind 
dwelt on Spike for quite a while and he was on the 
point of mentioning the dog to Tommy, when 
suddenly he was startled to hear a muffled whine, 
and then just the suggestion of a bark, a very 


66 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

cautious, but inquisitive sort of a bark that 
seemed to come from one of the barracks bags 
hanging on the hooks overhead. 

Ray looked surprised. Everyone else did too, 
except Chet Warren. He grew very red, and got 
tip from his seat quite hastily. 

“Crackey, I nearly forgot all about the poor 
mutt/' he exclaimed, and taking down the bar- 
racks bag he loosened up the draw string, and 
who should pop his head out of the top of the bag 
but Spike. 

Everyone yelled enthusiastically ; that is, every- 
one in the First Section, for all the men thought a 
great deal of Spike, and Ray swooped down and 
grabbed the excited animal, and held him in his 
arms, while Scotty and Buck and Tommy crowded 
around, and ruffled up his fuzzy hair, and pulled 
his spike of a tail and twisted his ears, yelling 
eagerly. 

“Hello, Spike.” “Atta Boy, Spike.” “Can’t 
lose you, you old mutt, can we ?” 

Then of course in the height of the pow-wow 
over the dog, who should come in at the end of 
the car but Lieutenant Ramsey. 

“Here, here, look here, what on earth does this 
mean? Well blow me, that pup here again after 
all I’ve said? Who brought him here? You, 
Barnes?” 

Ray hesitated a moment not knowing exactly 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 67 

how to answer. Then he said very stiffly, and 
very truthfully: 

“No, sir.” 

“Well who did?” thundered the officer, glaring 
from one man to another of the First Section. 

Chet Warren looking very pale and not a little 
frightened, stood up uncertainly, saluted and said : 

“I did, sir. Brought the little beggar in my 
dunnage bag so you wouldn’t see him get aboard 
the train.” 

Lieutenant Ramsey looked puzzled for a mo- 
ment. Here was disobedience to his orders. To 
be sure Chet was not criminally guilty of any se- 
rious breach of military discipline, but he had 
done something wrong. 

“Look here, Warren, didn’t you hear me say I 
didn’t like to have that pup about, and that I 
hoped he would stay back with the horses ?” 

“Yes, sir. I heard you, and you said you would 
watch to see that he didn’t get aboard of his own 
accord. You didn’t really say he couldn’t be 
brought along with us, you know. And the fellows 
all think so much of him that I smuggled him in 
and decided to take the consequences, sir.” 

Lieutenant Ramsey looked at him long and 
hard. He looked at Ray too, who still held on to 
the dog, and he looked at the eager, almost wistful 
faces of the rest of the men of the First Section. 

“Oh, well,” he said, “I don’t want to have the 


68 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


dog about, but I wouldn’t throw him off the train 
so I guess you fellows might as well hang onto 
him. As for you, Warren, I’ll have to punish 
you. For the rest of the trip you can regard 
yourself as car policeman. It’s up to you to 
sweep up and clean up this section of the car, 
pick up all the papers and keep it spotless, and 
I’ll be in now and then to see how well you do 
your work. Understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Chet saluting. 

“Very good. And mind, you fellows, don’t let 
that pup be too much of a nuisance or I will have 
to boot him off the train,” snapped the Lieutenant 
who was not really as stern and strict as he pre- 
tended he was. 

“Good for the Lieutenant,” said Corporal 
Scotty, when he had left the car. “He surely 
tries to be crusty, don’t he? But shucks, he isn’t 
at all.” 

“Well, I say good for Chet here. Never thought 
you had it in you, Warren. On the level, I didn’t,” 
said Cassidy. 

Chet colored to the roots of his hair. 

“Aw, I only did it because I like the mutt, too, 
now. I think I owe him something for trying to 
kick him the day he nabbed my sandwich, also he 
helped save my life, you know,” said Chet, turn- 
ing away. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


69 


“Huh, our spoiled kid's improving," said Cas- 
sidy. 

“Say, dry up, you," said Corporal Scotty, mean- 
ingly. “Leave Chet alone. He took his medicine 
like a man." 

“Right-o, he did," said Ray, who could not quite 
understand the change that was gradually coming 
over the one-time snobbish Warren. “Guess he's 
trying to be a regular fellow," he added in a half 
whisper, so that Warren, who was going down 
to the other end of the car to get a drink, could 
hear him. 

“Well, I'm a bit surprised myself," said 
Tommy, “but say, fellows, let’s not make his job 
hard for him. Look at those papers and match 
boxes under the seats there. Let's clean 'em up 
for him so Lieutenant Ramsey can’t kick at his 
car policing." 

“Right-o, we owe it to him," said Ray, “come 
on, and you, pup, you lie down under the seat here 
and don’t you let a yip out of you no matter how 
hungry you get," he added, shooing Spike under 
one of the seats. 

And you may be sure that during the rest of 
the long three-day trip, Lieutenant Ramsey had 
no cause to find fault with the looks of the First 
Section's portion of the car, and Chet did not have 
to do very much car policing at that. 

Three days and three nights in tourist sleepers, 


70 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


sleeping two men to a berth at night and just sit- 
ting around in cramped quarters during the day 
is not calculated to make fellows thoroughly con- 
tented. Little sleep could any of them get, and 
little to eat, too, for there were certain difficulties 
about providing the proper food for the fellows 
on these long train rides, and they had to be con- 
tented with cans of baked beans, canned corned 
beef, boxes of crackers and similar dry but per- 
fectly good food. Occasionally, however, this was 
topped off by fine, thick home-made sandwiches, 
little jars of jelly, and hot coffee that the Red 
Cross units and the very kind old Southern ladies 
brought to the railroad station and passed in 
through the car windows at each stop the train 
made. 

But there was little opportunity to wash and 
clean up thoroughly and shave in those cramped 
quarters and some of the fellows looked ugly 
enough to scare the most ferocious Boche, when 
they finally detrained “somewhere in the South- 
land” where fields of cotton, like drifts of snow, 
broke up a beautiful August landscape of gold 
and green, and red. 

With a cheer they tumbled out of the cars and 
lined up on the railroad embankment. Then with 
their barracks bags over their shoulders and 
Spike tagging along and occasionally breaking 
out of step to have a romp in the bushes along 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


71 


the roadside, the battery moved off in the direc- 
tion of the huge tent city that spread out on the 
plains a mile from the railroad station. 

The fellows first glimpsed the huge camp from 
a distance. Its headquarters, buildings, its scores 
and scores of unpainted barracks, its huge store- 
houses, machine shops and stables and its thou- 
sands and thousands of tents, standing in orderly 
lines reached away, way off to the edge of the 
plain where it joined the mountains that formed 
the background of the scene. 

“Well, here we are,” said Scotty, jubilantly. 

“Yeah, here we are and here we’ll stay prob- 
ably, and they are going to make infantry of us or 
I’m a Dutchman,” said Buck Cassidy, whose eag- 
erness to get “Over There” always made a pessi- 
mist of him. 

But once ag^in Buck was wrong. 

On they filed toward the camp, then down one 
company street after another they wended their 
way, being cheered by a group of fellows in khaki 
here and a group of laborers there, and getting a 
warm reception from every quarter. This pleased 
them for it made all the lingering homesickness 
for their old camp vanish. 

And as they encountered these groups of in- 
terested fellows, Ray was surprised to discover in 
the machine gun section of the camp, Buck Sharp, 
standing beside one of the tents, and waving to 


72 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


him frantically, yelling “Hi, Ray, where you been 
all this time?” 

But of course Ray, because of discipline, could 
only grin, and shoot a meaning glance at him 
which said plainly, “Glad to see you again, Buck. 
I’ll look you up later and tell you all about it.” 

On they marched to the far end of the camp, 
where a new section was being laid out and con- 
structed by men of the engineering regiments. 
And here, too, Ray discovered several familiar 
figures ; former Brooklyn boys who had enlisted. 
Of course they stopped work, and leaning on the 
handle of their implements watched the artillery 
men file by. 

On they marched to the artillery section of the 
camp, and here in a brand new company street, 
with tents but recently erected, they were assigned 
to quarters. And when they broke ranks to ar- 
range their new homes, the objects that interested 
them above everything else were the several field 
pieces and caissons parked at the end of the com- 
pany street. 

Indeed scores of fellows rushed toward them 
with a whoop of joy for they realized that these 
must be their new guns. 

“Wow, that don’t look like we were going to be 
doughboys, does it, old Maverick?” cried Scotty, 
slapping Buck Cassidy on the back. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


73 


“I should say not, ,, cried Ray, answering the 
question. 

“But look here, fellows — why — yes, sir, by jin- 
goes, those field pieces are the regulation three 
inch guns. They — they — wow, now I know why 
we left our guns at Prattsburgh — these are regu- 
lar French 7S’s — the very kind they are using 
"Over There/ ” 


74 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


CHAPTER VI. 

PUTTING IN THE) FINISHING TOUCHES. 

V 

Camp J proved to be a tremendous can- 

tonment with more than an entire division of 
27,000 men quartered there, and it was a really 
wonderful and stirring sort of a place to be in, as 
Ray and Tommy and all the rest of the fellows of 
the Battery found out soon after their arrival. 

But it was a place of real work and as week 
after week rolled by, the fellows found that their 
daily stunts grew harder and harder. Here was 
rigorous training indeed. Here was preparedness 
brought to the highest point of American effi- 
ciency. There were no fads or frills about it, just 
plain hard work, and the fellows knew that when 
the officials in charge of the camp and the authori- 
ties in Washington decided to move them to 
France, they would be in the pink of physical con- 
dition, and they would know the War game as 
well as any troops could know it, outside of those 
actually engaged on the firing line. 

The training was destined to make the fellows 
young giants, able to stand the rigors of any sort 
of weather and any conditions. There was, of 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


75 


course, the usual amount of athletics, along with 
physical exercise, such as setting up work, boxing, 
wrestling, cane rushes, football and the like, and 
in a surprisingly short time every chap's muscles 
began to get firm and hard. A healthy pink flush 
showed in every cheek, and every eye was bright 
and alert. 

Then came the actual war drills and maneu- 
vers that were calculated to teach the healthy, 
husky young fellows the business and science of 
making war. The countryside all about the big 
camp was one huge sham battle ground. In every 
direction infantry regiments were to be seen dig- 
ging and manning regulation trenches. At an- 
other point bombing squads were learning the art 
of tossing those deadly missiles, at still another 
point there were huge rifle ranges where com- 
pany after company spent hours on the firing line 
learning to perfect their shooting. Then there 
were the sections where grotesque dummies and 
swinging bundles of sticks presented targets for 
the men who were learning to handle the bayonet. 
There were sections, too, where the engineers 
learned how to construct trenches, mine galleries, 
barbed wire entanglements, concrete field fortifi- 
cation and even miniature railroads. There were 
gas chambers, too, where the men became accus- 
tomed to the latest German methods of fighting. 
Instructions in the handling of liquid fire, and a 


76 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


host of other interesting and complicated details 
were not lacking. 

All this highly specialized work was being car- 
ried on under the watchful eyes and careful in- 
structions of veterans of French and English regi- 
ments who had come from “Over There,” to 
qualify these nephews of Uncle Sam in the real 
art of making war. 

For Ray and Tommy and the rest of the mem- 
bers of the Battery there were French gunners 
who helped them solve the mysteries of the new 
French 75’s. These field pieces proved to be but 
little different than the American three-inch guns 
after all, and they were not much more difficult 
to handle, so that all their preliminary field work 
at Prattsburgh stood the fellows excellently, but 
that was as far as they were proficient. 

There were dozens of details of artillery war- 
fare to be learned, and to master all this meant 
weeks and weeks and weeks of the hardest kind 
of drilling. Ray and Tommy and everyone else 
worked so hard that they were usually thoroughly 
exhausted by the time retreat was sounded. When 
the flag at headquarters was lowered to the music 
of the big camp band at evening, they were quite 
willing to have mess and turn in long before taps 
were sounded. They had little time or inclina- 
tion for sociability, although on several occasions 
Ray did look up Buck Sharp who was in the Sui- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 77' 

cide Club (the machine-gun battalion) and of 
course at such reunions the Sphinx Club chums 
always had a good time. On several occasions 
they were able to get passes to leave camp to- 
gether and they spent one or two pleasant eve- 
nings in nearby towns, "taking in” the movies 
and eating generous meals in the most expensive 
restaurants just by way of "feeling civilized” as 
Buck put it. 

But it was true that the hard work the Battery 
was undergoing left the fellows little time for 
pleasure. There were physical drills, then gun 
drills, field work, lectures on ammunition, deflec- 
tion, and goodness only knows what not, along 
with frequent trips to the artillery range back in 
The mountains, where the fellows spattered the 
hills with shrapnel and shells, and had a generally 
good time despite the hard work. These trips to 
the range were gruelling periods, however, and as 
big Scotty expressed it, "If real fightin’ is any 
harder than this then I take off my hat to the 
Frenchies and the Tommies and every other mav- 
erick over there.” 

If these expeditions were hard, they had their 
pleasant sides, too, for there was nothing more 
thrilling than to go rolling over the landscape, on 
rumbling caisson and field pieces, drawn by six 
powerful horses that snorted and plunged and 
raised a whirlwind of dust. Almost every other 


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BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


week some one of the country roads would be 
choked with the moving batteries with their ac- 
companiment of transports, loaded with camp lug- 
gage and ammunition. It was just bully fun and 
about the nearest thing yet to actual wartime 
manoeuvring that Ray and Tommy and all the 
rest had experienced. They enjoyed it thoroughly 
even though they did become so exhausted and 
overwrought at the end of each day that they were 
ready to drop in their tracks by night fall. 

To be sure, Spike always accompanied the First 
Section on these hikes. The dog had become a 
fixture now, and even Lieutenant Ramsey toler- 
ated his presence with the outfit. The Airedale 
would trot along under the caisson on the First 
Section for miles, and when he became tired, and 
the officers weren’t looking, he would, at the boys’ 
coaxing, jump up and ride contentedly between 
Ray and Tommy. 

On these trips the fellows pitched their own 
tents and made their own camps and lived exactly 
as they would in the field, picketing the horses, 
parking the pieces, and playing at soldier from 
beginning to end. The camps were always pic- 
turesque places, and when they were pitched near 
some tiny village they always attracted consider- 
able attention. Mostly, however, the trips were 
made through the wilderness and their camps 
were pitched off in the mountains in the general 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


79 


vicinity of the artillery range but this, too, added 
a lot of interest to everything. 

Because of a shortage of equipment, the fellows 
had to go back to the now out of date “pup” tents, 
for camp purposes. These little tents shelter but 
two men, and when scores of them were pitched 
in orderly fashion, and the transports and field 
pieces were parked and the horse lines established, 
the camps looked “simply great,” as Ray ex- 
pressed it in one of his weekly letters home to his 
mother and dad. 

Of course there was the prescribed amount of 
guard duty and all that to be done during the ex- 
peditions, and Ray found guard duty the most 
trying of all his work, particularly after a day's 
hard grind. Some of his turns at sentry, and in 
particular one period of horse guard duty, will 
stand out in his memory forever. 

It occurred one night late in the fall, when there 
was just a slight chill in the air even in the South- 
land. Ray was routed out from the tent where 
the guards slept, at four o’clock in the morning to 
stand his tour until daylight. It was pitch dark 
when he turned out and started toward the picket 
line, there to relieve the man on post. The stars 
were twinkling with cold light in a blue black sky 
overhead and the Southern cross was well down 
in the heavens. The watchfires had burned low, 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


280 

too, and gave a dull, red glare like monstrous eye^: 
lurking in the night. 

He sauntered over, buttoning his blouse about 
him as he went and found the man whom he was 
to relieve ready and waiting for him. With a few 
bantering words they greeted each other, then 
parted, and Ray, to fight off the chill of early 
morning, and to really wake himself up, began to 
go up and down the picket line, looking over the 
quiet horses. Everything seemed all right and he 
returned to his post, to stand gazing off over the 
.slumbering camp. 

The rows and rows of “pup” tents looked shad- 
owy and phantom-like in the blue darkness that 
precedes dawn, and the transport trucks and the 
field-pieces, and caissons parked at a distance, 
seemed to merge into the shadows of the woods 
that surrounded the camp. The brook that gur- 
gled through the hills and at which the. horses had 
been watered, sounded much louder in the still- 
ness, and far off on the mountain, a horned-owl 
called out his spooky “whoo-hoo-hoo.” 

Slowly the half light of dawn began to come on. 
Ray could see all about the camp now and every- 
thing looked ghostly and weird. The stillness 
stimulated imagination in him, too, and he had a 
lot of fun out there pretending that shadows were 
real objects. The owl began calling from a point 
much closer to the camp, and high up in the air a 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


81 


night hawk circled round and round, his student 
call floating down through the air. 

It was spooky indeed. Ray was lonesome out 
there too. He realized that each of those tents 
sheltered two peacefully sleeping fellows. How 
he envied them. How he would like 

A piercing scream rent the air. It was high 
and shrill. It was terrible. Ray’s hair stood on 
end. He went cold all over. Another cry fol- 
lowed, just as spooky as the first and before Ray’s 
astonished eyes, one of the “pup” tents, got right 
up from the ground, and came flying toward him. 
From the tent came cries and more cries. 

Ray was startled to say the least. For a mo- 
ment he hardly knew whether to run or stand his 
ground. What on earth was happening? Sud- 
denly the whole foolish situation dawned on him 
and he roared with laughter. He did start to run 
but not away from the apparently bewitched tent. 
Instead he plunged toward it, and diving at it, as 
he always did when making a football tackle, he 
gathered in his arms four legs that protruded 
from beneath the tent, working frantically, and 
the next instant he and the tent and its two occu- 
pants were rolling over and over on the ground, 
threshing about and making a terrible noise. 

Other guards came running over to see what 
the trouble was, and half-clad men came out of 
other tents, trying hard to find out what all the 


$2 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

rumpus was about. By this time Ray had pulled 
the tent off of its two occupants, and there on the 
ground in the voluminous folds of canopy, white 
and very frightened looking, sat Chat Warren 
and his bunkie, Bud Falkner, both thoroughly 
scared and dazed. 

“Why, Chet, what on earth is the matter? 
What’s up, Falkner?” cried Ray with a grin. 

Falkner stared at Chet, and said quite frankly. 

“Search me. Ask Chet.” 

As for Chet, he just sat and shivered and trem- 
bled all over. 

“What is it? What were you running around 
like a regular gillie for ?” demanded Ray. 

“Why — why — er — I — I — guess I had a night- 
mare. I was dreaming. I thought a horse was 
stepping on my chest and I just got up and ran 
and yelled. Oh, what a dream !” Chet was feel- 
ing his chest as he spoke. 

“Ugh — is that all ?” cried Falkner in disgust. 

“You nearly scared the life clear out of me. I 
heard you yell, and felt you jump and I jumped 
too. Crackey, I didn’t know but what the Kaiser 
himself was after us.” 

Everybody set up a roar at this, and Chet 
blushed all over, and looked and doubtless felt a 
perfect ninny. 

“Well — I couldn’t help dreaming could I?” he 
said rather peevishly. 




“ Why, Chet, what on earth ia the matter ? '* 

cried Ray with a grin. Page 8a. 










i 

i 

» 

r 




















































































OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


83 


“O, I guess you missed being tucked in last 
night,” yelled Buck Cassidy, who stood staring at 
them, clad only in his underclothes. 

“Perhaps Corporal Norman forgot to kiss you 
goodnight/' laughed Tommy Wrenn. 

“Oh, the dear boy is frightened/’ cried some- 
one else and then everyone began to josh Chet un- 
til he got so angry that he went storming off by 
himself, thoroughly peeved. 

The whole camp was aroused by the noise and 
fuss and since it lacked but half an hour of re- 
veille, most of the fellows did not go back to bed 
after that but prepared themselves for a hard 
day’s work that lay ahead of them. As for Chet, 
he came back rather sheepishly, when reveille 
was sounded, and helped Falkner pack up the tent 
and other equipment, but the fellows kept josh- 
ing him all that day, and the more they joshed 
him the more angry he got. Indeed, by the time 
they reached the artillery range that night and 
were in camp again, he was so sore and so thor- 
oughly miserable that he did not have a single 
companion to chum with, and the result was that 
he went stalking off by himself after evening 
mess, and did not return to the company street 
until an hour before taps. 

It happened that Ray met him as he was enter- 
ing camp, and recognizing him in the darkness 
he was about to do some joshing too, when he 


84 


BARRAGE EIRE BAKJSfES 


drew closer to Warren and saw the miserable 
look on the chap’s face. Instead of joshing, he 
said: 

'‘Hello, Warren, what’s up? You look glum.” 

“Hello, Barnes, nothing’s the mat — no that’s a 
lie — everything’s the matter. Who wouldn’t look 
glum after the way I’ve been kidded.” 

Ray looked at him and smiled, and Chet was 
going to turn away quite peeved again, but Ray 
caught him by the arm. 

“Say, Warren — Chet I mean — don’t be such a 
baby. Does a little kidding hurt you as much as 
that?” 

“No, but — but — aw — well seems to me I’m al- 
ways the goat. When they don’t have a good 
opportunity to kid me like they had this morning 
why they just kid me anyhow on being a spoiled 
boy. I — I — it’s rotten, Ray.” 

Ray stood and looked at Chet for a moment 
while he summed up the whole thing. Then he 
spoke : 

“Come on over here and let me tell you some- 
thing, will you, Chet?” 

Together they went over and sat down on the 
tongue of one of the caisson limbers, and Ray 
began : 

“Don’t mind if I give you a bit of advice do 
you, Chet? No? Fine. Just listen, and don't 
get mad.” (Ray grinned as he spoke.) “The 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


85 


fellows do kid you a lot. They take a delight in 
it because they know you are sort of a spoiled 
boy and that you are not used to kidding and you 
get peeved right off. Now that’s all wrong on 
your part, Chet.” 

Ray was watching him as he spoke and he 
noticed that Chet did start to get peevish once 
again. But evidently he changed his mind, for 
the look of anger passed from his face and he 
became attentive again. 

“You started off wrong with the fellows. 
When I first came with the outfit you were a 
regular little snob. Everyone could see by the 
way you acted that your family was rich and that 
they made a pet of you, and that you thought 
you should have your own way in everything, 
and of course no real, regular fellow likes a chap 
of that sort, so they left you alone. And I guess 
that was what you wanted because you didn’t 
try to chum up with anyone. You just sort of 
thought you were too good for the bunch. Am 
I right? Be honest, Chet?” 

Chet was silent for a moment. Then he con- 
fessed : 

“Shucks, what’s the use of denying it. Of 
course you are right. I was a regular snob then. 
Guess that little incident in the train on our way 
up to Prattsburgh proved that. But, Ray, I took 
a drop to myself a few weeks after that and I 


86 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


honestly tried not to be so snobbish, but shucks, 
the fellows wouldn’t chum up with me anyhow.” 

“I know it. You established a bad rep, and 
believe me, Chet, a reputation, good or bad is 
hard to live down or tear down, whichever the 
case may be. I have been watching you just out 
of curiosity. You tried blame hard to be a regu- 
lar fellow, didn’t you? Why when you smuggled 
Spike aboard the troop train, you came mighty 
near to breaking into the good graces of every 
fellow in the section. But while you tried to be 
a good fellow you didn’t try to curb your peevish 
temper, and you didn’t try to forget that you 
weren’t a little better than the rest of us/ and of 
course the fellows forgot about how you brought 
Spike along, and just remembered to kid you 
every chance they got and watch you go up in 
the air, which you do every time.” 

“I — I — yes, I know it, Ray, but how — what — 
I can’t seem to do any different. The more I try 
to be a regular fellow the harder it is for me to 
do it.” 

“Well, here’s just a bit of advice,” said Ray, 
“try to quit being snobbish in any way and when 
the fellows kid you, just show ’em you’re a sport. 
Show ’em your skin’s as thick as theirs, and that 
you can stand for the kidding, and grin back 
instead of kicking back. Just grin, and kid along 
with them. And if you keep on trying and try- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


87 


in g, and be decent about everything instead of 
acting like a spoiled child you'll make it sure 
enough. Shucks, Chet, you have it in you. 
You're a sport and a decent sort of a chap if 
you’ll give yourself half a chance. Go to it and 
try,” said Ray with a smile. 

“All right, Ray, I will,” said Chet. 

And he did. That little conversation with Ray 
made Chet understand himself better than 
he did before. After leaving Ray he indulged 
in a few minutes of self-analysis and soon real- 
ized that his attitude of getting peevish at every 
little bit of joking at his expense was sort of 
boorish. Besides these actions always had the 
qualities of a boomerang in that the more he be- 
came angry the more the fellows liked to josh 
him for the simple purpose of seeing him rant 
around like a spoiled boy. And he resolved that 
hereafter no matter what happened he would be 
a sport and take the joshing with a grin. 

That very night he came back to the company 
street in a better frame of mind and attitude, and 
surprised everyone, including his bunkie — Bud 
Falkner, who never did care very much about 
him — by his good fellowship. 

As Ray had guessed, there was a lot of good in 
Chet if he would but give it a chance to come out. 
But even Ray couldn’t guess of what really good 
qualities the Battery’s “spoiled boy” was made, 


88 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


until there came a chance for Chet to prove his 
metal. Indeed, Chet and Ray and several others 
were soon to be the heroes of the entire outfit, 
but that is getting ahead of the story. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


89 


CHAPTER VII. 

“over thsre;.” 

Fall passed and winter came on, and for a 
southern winter it proved to be a decidedly cold 
season. Winter overcoats were issued to the men 
in khaki, and the heavy O.D.'s felt mighty com- 
fortable. So did sweaters, wristlets and helmets 
sent down from the north by hundreds of loving 
mothers and sweethearts who were doing their 
share with knitting needles. Ray's mother and 
sister provided for him generously, and they pro- 
vided for Corporal Scotty, too, who had no one 
to knit for him, also they made sweaters and 
wristlets and helmets for several other fellows 
of the Battery who stood a good chance of shiver- 
ing but for their kind thoughtfulness. 

Week after week rolled by. The southern 
winter was at its height. Days grew shorter and 
then began to grow longer again, and still the 
men drilled and drilled and drilled. French and 
English instructors in every branch of the service 
came and went, to have others take their places, 
and still the drills and hardening process kept up, 
until the Division was composed of twenty-seven 


90 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


thousand and odd, sun-tanned, wind-burned, 
muscular, husky young chaps, the pick of the 
largest state, in point of population, in the Union. 
They were assuredly in excellent condition, these 
National Guardsmen of the North. 

And because they were in the best of shape, 
and because they had pent up in them so much 
energy, they began to grow restive. Every week 
they looked for, hoped for and wished for orders 
to be off, “Over There.” And each week rolled 
by without those orders being issued. 

Like old war-horses eager to be off to battle, 
these young fellows were chafing at the bit. A 
dozen times a day the same question was asked 
by these khaki-clad fighters, f< What is the news ?” 
“When do we pull out?” “Is the Division ever 
going to get away ?” 

The fellows of Battery J were as restless as the 
rest, but the strapping young fellows on the first 
section, including Ray and Corporal Scotty, Buck 
and Tommy seemed to be the most impatient of 
them all. Every day Buck Cassidy would give 
vent to some pessimistic remark about never leav- 
ing the U. S. A., and even Scotty, after a time, 
refused to be optimistic and gave the little Irish- 
man rats for his skeptical attitude. Indeed, 
Scotty, the big good-natured chap, almost became 
a pessimist himself, 

“Shoot me for a hoss thief if I believe we are 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


91 


goirT anywhere but right heah,” he said to Ray 
one night, after mess. 

“It surely does look as if we are going to stick 
around here until the war is over. Almost 
wish I had joined the Regulars. They are actu- 
ally in the trenches by now,” said Ray. Then he 
added, “Or I wish I had taken Danny Kelly’s 
advice and joined the Fightin’ Fifth.” 

“The Fightin’ Fifth. Man, you said something. 
I wish I had had sense enough to do it too. That 
whole Division is over in France now and doing 
trench work, too, and they were National Guards- 
men,” said Scotty. 

“Yes, and we are pottering around over here 
in the backwoods several thousand miles from the 
big noise,” said Buck Cassidy. 

“Well, there isn’t much we can do about it 
except wait and wish,” said Tommy with a grin. 

And wait and wish they did. 

But good news came at last. Chet Warren, 
now trying hard to be a “regular fellow,” made 
a momentous discovery one day. Having ob- 
tained a pass he wandered down through the 
north end of the camp to reach a highroad where 
he could catch an automobile bus for Crawfords- 
ville. But he never caught the bus. He was 
going through the quarters of the 4th Infantry 
when he noticed undue activities among the men 
in the line of packing up their belongings. Sens- 


92 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


ing news, he got one of the fellows aside and 
asked him what was taking place. 

“Shus-s-, we’re moving tonight. We’re off 
for ‘Over There’ sure’s you live,” said the fellow, 
radiant with enthusiasm. 

Chet swallowed hard. 

“Is the whole Division going?” he asked. 

“Don’t know. We are the only ones who have 
orders to move so far as I know. Anyhow you 
Artillery guys don’t count much, so maybe they’ll 
leave you here awhile.” 

Chet felt his old peevishness growing under 
the joshing. But he was learning to master it 
nowadays, so he came back with : 

“Huh, if you doughboys are moving it’s a 
pretty good sign we’ll all be starting in about 
a month. You see you fellows are so slow that 
we have to give you a month’s headstart. Then 
we’ll beat you to France at that,” he said. Where- 
upon the other fellow grinned and croaked, “You 
Artillery ginks think you’re a lot. Run along 
now little one — peddle your papers.” 

Chet did run along, but not in the direction in 
which he had started. Instead he hurried back 
to the Battery camp to spread the gossip, thereby 
losing the bus for Crawfordsville and forgetting 
the few hours’ leave. But he did not mind that 
now. You see he was learning to be unselfish. 

The news he brought stirred everyone who 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 93 

heard it, and the fellows began to speculate as 
to how soon they would be on their way. Even 
Buck Cassidy felt optimistic for a change. 
“Well,” he said, “I’m going to pack my safety 
razor anyhow, we might move sudden-like.” 

Everyone was on the alert for days after that 
looking for orders to move, and when they finally 
came they were welcomed with enthusiasm. 
Things were happening all about the camp. Cer- 
tain officers were missing from their usual posts 
(doubtless gone somewhere to look after trans- 
portation facilities) and soon one section and 
then another of the big camp were suddenly 
found to be vacant, the occupants having disap- 
peared over night like so many phantoms. And 
then came the Battery's turn. 

Early one morning orders were issued to get 
ready to move. A wave of suppressed excite- 
ment ran through the battery camp. Men began 
to pack their equipment eagerly and in a sur- 
prisingly short time all were ready to don the 
heavy marching order of Infantry men, for once 
again they were to move and leave horses and 
batteries behind. 

Again came the problem of taking Spike along, 
but since Lieutenant Ramsey had been mysteri- 
ously missing from the camp for two days, off 
somewhere arranging transportation facilities, 
Ray and Tommy concluded that they could just 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


94 

let the dog trail along with them until they ar- 
rived at the railroad. 

That night orders came to move. With snap 
and vigor the fellows fell into line in the com- 
pany streets, then under a starlit sky, bundled in 
overcoats, and their steel-shod trench shoes scrap- 
ing the frozen earth, they started tramping 
through the now almost deserted camp toward 
the railroad terminal. 

Here on side tracks, with windows blinded by 
drawn curtains stood the troop train, and it did 
not take the fellows long to tumble aboard. 
Spike, accustomed to troop trains now, and with 
Lieutenant Ramsey nowhere in sight, scrambled 
into the car used by the men of the first section, 
and hid himself under the seat occupied by Ray 
and Tommy as he had done on two other occa- 
sions. 

In a surprisingly short time, the train got un- 
der way, and almost before the fellows became 
well settled down, they were rolling on through 
the country, bound, so far as they could deter- 
mine, toward the coast. Hour after hour the train 
rumbled on, over switches and crossings, and 
through darkened villages. Mile after mile was 
put behind, and the fellows growing sleepy 
sprawled out the best they could and caught cat- 
naps. 

Then in the half-light of dawn, everyone was 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


95 


aroused by sleepy non-coms who hustled through 
the cars shaking the drowsy fellows to wakeful- 
ness. Five minutes later came the order to de- 
train, and half asleep and feeling very drowsy, 
the men shuffled to their feet and scraped their 
way out of the car, to step down in the midst of 
a very busy scene. 

The train had been shunted through to the 
waterfront of some seaboard city, and lay on a 
spur track that ran along the entrance to scores 
of docks. Here in the lingering darkness, under 
the light of twinkling arcs, and red and green 
railroad and ship lights that winked and blinked 
on every hand, thousands of men in khaki milled 
about, some moving this way and some that way. 
But by way of a lane made through the crowd, 
there moved a steady stream of men with equip- 
ment on their backs and rifles over their shoul- 
ders on the way to the steamers. For a time the 
men of Battery J joined the milling crowd of 
men, but soon out of the chaos came orders: 

Battery J, attention ! Forward, Column right ! 
Ho!” 

Off swung the boys of the battery, wheel- 
ing sharply and tramping through the lane 
between crowds of waiting soldiers, who would 
soon follow them. Out onto the dock they 
marched, and then by squads up the broad gang- 
plank and on board the gray and frowning trans- 


96 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

port. But in the press and hurry, Spike was 
not forgotten. Ray, in the rear rank of a squad, 
gathered the dog up under his arm and hiding 
him as best he could from the eyes of inquisitive 
officers, carried him on shipboard, too, and hid 
him away in some coils of rope on deck until all 
the excitement was over and the transport was 
well under way. 

For hours the docks were crowded with sol- 
diers as transport after transport was loaded. 
Then with the sun just showing above the city, 
the steamers began to pull out of the berths, one 
by one, and aided by puffing tugs moved far out 
in the harbor and dropped down stream with 
the tide into a tremendously broad expanse of 
water which some of the fellows thought was 
Hampton Roads. 

Soon a line of smoke-belching destroyers hove 
in sight, then more transports and more destroy- 
ers, and inside of an hour a fleet of fifteen vessels 
all told was prepared for departure “Over 
There.” And what a cheer broke out from the 
thousands of khaki clad fellows when the vessels 
formed in column and signal flags broke forth 
from the flagship's masthead, commanding the 
fleet to move forward. At last, after months and 
months of anxious waiting and faithful training, 
they were off for France. 

As we have glossed over many of the details 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


97 


of the months of drilling and study, we may, too, 
gloss over those ten long, tiresome days at sea, 
when little except false alarms of sighted sub- 
marines broke the monotony of the long ocean 
journey. Even these submarine alarms did not 
cause much enthusiasm among the fellows on 
shipboard because the submarines always turned 
out to be floating butter tubs, or driftwood and 
rubbish, and the fellows after the second or third 
wild scramble for the decks only to be disap- 
pointed, refused to be stirred again. 

There was the usual amount of seasickness on 
board, the usual setting-up exercises each day, 
and lectures in the mess hall along with boxing 
and other stunts to provide fun for the men. But 
with all this the trip soon grew tedious and the 
darting destroyers, and the long evenly-sailing 
column of transports, grew to be an eye-sore to 
the fellows. Indeed, were it not that they were 
buoyed up by the one thought that they were 
daily approaching France, Battery J at least 
would have been composed of a mighty down- 
cast bunch of chaps. But assuredly had they 
known what was in store for them when they 
reached France, they would have been more 
cheerful. 

Indeed, some of the fellows of the First Sec- 
tion, notably Buck Cassidy and Bud Falkner, 
began to generate rather disagreeable disposi- 


98 


BARRAGE EIRE BARNES 


tions. Buck was up to his old tricks of baiting 
Chet Warren again, and Falkner followed his 
example. 

It is to Chet’s credit, however, that he stood 
for a lot of their joshing and even joshed back 
without getting peevish and sulking. And it is 
to Buck Cassidy’s discredit, that when he saw 
he could not get a rise out of Chet, he took to 
uttering positively cutting remarks about the 
“battery’s favorite” or “the spoiled boy.” Chet 
was sport enough to stand for that too for a cer- 
tain length of time, but Cassidy soon became 
positively unbearable and Chet lost his self-con- 
trol. Elowever, instead of going off and sulking 
as he used to do, he turned squarely around and 
faced Cassidy and told him straight from the 
shoulder that he would not stand for any more 
of it. That was war talk and the whole thing 
was settled aft on the main deck that evening, 
when some one produced a set of boxing gloves. 
Much to the surprise of everyone including Buck, 
the Battery’s “Spoiled Boy” knew how to handle 
gloves in good style, and the bout was a corker. 

For six rounds they fought, and while Cassidy 
had the best of the argument, Chet did not show 
the white feather at any stage of the game, and 
really earned a draw. They whaled away at 
each other in fine style, regardless of blackened 
eyes and split lips, and when they finished, Buck 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


99 


shook hands with Chet and apologized for some 
of his mean remarks. 

The fight accomplished a lot in that it cleared 
the atmosphere as it were, and gave the fellows 
something to talk about. It achieved for Chet, 
too, a measure of respect all the way around, 
even Bud Falkner remarking that the “dude” 
had improved considerably since leaving Brook- 
lyn and that he stood a fair chance of becoming 
a “regular guy” if he kept on. 

About the only one who really seemed to enjoy 
the trip across at all was Spike. After the un- 
certainty of the first morning out, when Lieu- 
tenant Ramsey appeared from the officer's mess 
and almost stumbled over the fuzzy dog, and 
made a few remarks about “that bloomin' pup 
turning up again” things went well with Spike. 
He had the freedom of the transport, and made 
scores of friends outside of his chums in the first 
section. He was always in the mess rooms at 
meal time, and he waxed fat and lazy with little 
exercise and a lot of food tossed to him by the 
men. He always found the sunniest portions 
of the deck to snooze in when the weather would 
permit such naps and at night he always snuggled 
in under the cots that were occupied by Ray and 
Tommy and which were fortunately placed side 
by side. But toward the last evening Spike 
showed distinct signs of weariness with the voy- 


100 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

age and it was evident that he would have given 
the rest of his stump of a tail for a good romp 
in the woods, or a good long hike over country 
roads. Indeed, he seemed as pleased as the rest 
when on the morning of the tenth day came the 
pleasant call from the foretop: 

“Land, ho!” 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


101 


CHAPTER VIII. 
called to action. 

It was after dark when the transports finally 
made their way up the narrow French harbor 

of B , and one by one were warped into a 

basin beside some long docks. The city of B 

itself was all darkened for it was located far 
enough north to be in danger of an air raid at 
most any time. But from the mass of moving 
black shadows on the piers nearby and the cheers 
that went up, the boys in khaki knew that a 
goodly crowd of enthusiastic French men and 
women had turned out to welcome this new con- 
tingent of Americans. Indeed, they cheered and 
cheered and cheered, and you may be sure that 
the fellows cheered back lustily, their grouches 
all forgotten and the monotony of the recent 
journey only a memory. 

They were “Over There.” That was sufficient 
to make them happy and they were thoroughly 
pleased with everything. They sang songs and 
yelled and had a great time, for they had long 
since packed their belongings, and stood on deck 


102 


BARRAGE EIRE BARNES 


in heavy marching order ready for debarkation 
the moment the command was given. 

That was not long in coming. Down the gang- 
plank filed the men to form immediately on the 
dock in squads. Then at a snappy step, and to 
the music of their own singing, they moved for- 
ward again, and off to the left where snorting 
engines, and twinkling signal lights told them 
that troop trains waited for them. 

The men of Battery J were among the first to 
disembark, and their commander lost no time in 
hurrying them over to the railroad terminal 
where with men from other batteries they 
swarmed on board the train. In the hustle and 
bustle of the last few minutes Ray had not over- 
looked Spike. The puppy with dog wisdom, 
tagged behind Ray’s squad and kept close to him 
in the pushing and hauling on the dock. He had 
moved along too with the rank and file in the 
short trip to the railroad yards, and when he 
saw Ray and Tommy and Corporal Scotty, his 
special friends, scrambling into a big box car, he 
gave a run and a jump and landed in among them. 
Then like the rest he made himself comfortable 
and soon was snoring contentedly. And since 
there was little to see in the darkness, and since 
there was a decided chill in the air, the only way 
the fellows could make themselves quite com- 
fortable was by rolling up in their blankets and 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


■103 


trying to get some sleep. Indeed, many of them 
were quite dead to the world and snoring loudly, 
when, close toward midnight, as Ray discovered 
by his luminous wrist watch, the train finally 
got under way. Then he, too, joined the sleepers, 
for he was quite tired. 

If they were long in getting started they lost 
no time when once under way, for in France the 
troop trains have the right of way and all lines 
were cleared for the rattling, clanking series of 
nondescript cars that were hauled along by the 
swift little locomotives. It seemed to Ray as if 
he had hardly closed his eyes when he was awak- 
ened again by a series of sharp commands, and 
by men scrambling to their feet in the darkness 
and stepping all over him. Of course he got up 
too and slapped his pack together the best way he 
could for already the fellows were falling into 
line outside in the gathering down. 

He leaped from the car and took his place in 
line beside Tommy, and presently the word came 
to move forward. Out of the apparently newly 
built, and very American-looking railroad termi- 
nal they filed, to find that they were on the out- 
skirts of a large French city which afterward 

turned out to be the city of V . Even at 

this astonishingly early hour, the place was very 
active, and American, English, French and some 
Canadian troops were moving through the 


104 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


streets. The new arrivals could not restrain a 
cheer or two when they saw these lines of grizzled 
and mud-stained allied soldiers, and of course the 
others cheered back. 

But the fellows had little time for sight-seeing 
or glimpses of the city for they marched out of 
it immediately, and along a finely macadamized 
road, in the direction of the sunrise. 

Twenty minutes of brisk marching served to 
thoroughly awaken the fellows, and suddenly, 
as they rounded a turn in the road, they were all 
thrilled to behold a huge army cantonment, with 
new unpainted barracks buildings covering one 
long, far-reaching plain. And in the very center 
of the group, on a slight eminence, was a big un- 
painted headquarters building, from the top of 
which floated the Stars and Stripes. There were 
several green-painted shacks too, and Ray and 
the rest recognized these as the Y. M. C. A. build- 
ings for the American soldiers. It seemed good 
to them to know that all the way across the water 
these friends of every soldier had followed them. 

This first glimpse of one of Uncle Sam’s big 
cantonments that he had established on foreign 
soil for his boys in khaki thrilled them all, and 
everyone was eager to reach his new quarters 
and find out just what everything was like. 

Things began with a rush almost the moment 
they reached the cantonment. Barracks buildings 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


105 . 


were assigned as far as possible, and those troops 
that had to go without quarters in such buildings 
were billeted at nearby farm houses, in barns and 
other buildings made weather-tight for them, and 
well provided to keep them snug and comfortable. 

Then came a thousand and one details, not the 
least of which was the assignment of field pieces, 
horses and equipment to the batteries, for ade- 
quate arms and equipment were waiting for these 
new fighting nephews of Uncle Sam. 

It took two whole days to get all the new troops 
thoroughly established, and Ray and the rest 
learned with delight that their entire Division 
had come over with them, and was to occupy 
exclusively this new cantonment until the time 
arrived for them to move on to the front, which 
they knew was not many miles distant, judging 
from the constant rumbling grumble that came 
down to them from the north. But at the end 
of the third day, order had been restored out of 
confusion, and the big, new camp of Americans 
settled down to the task of putting on the finish- 
ing touches that would make them fit for the 
front. Fortunately, however, the men had spent 
so much time and had become so well drilled in 
America that it was apparent that it would not be 
long before they would be deemed fit to take their 
places in the battle line. 

At many points beyond the cantonment huge: 


106 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


training grounds had been established, and here 
the men acquired these final finishing touches 
that would make them capable of standing shoul- 
der to shoulder with the veteran Poilus and Tom- 
mies in the trenches. Daily, company after com- 
pany of infantry marched out to these training 
grounds where they were taught under the keen 
eyes of Frenchmen, the very newest details of the 
business of making war. The engineering regi- 
ments sallied forth every morning to other points 
where competent and experienced French engi- 
neers instructed them in the latest methods of 
construction and destruction, whichever the case 
happened to be. To the rifle ranges went other 
companies and to the machine gun ranges went 
the men of the Suicide Club. 

For the artillery there was a great deal of this 
finishing training. Daily the batteries would re- 
spond to the command “harness” and by sun-up 
each morning section after section would leave 
the cantonment and go dashing forth across the 
open country in the direction of the artillery 
range a few miles distant. Here under keen eyes 
of the French artillery officers, who knew the 
new 75’s from tire to breech block, the young 
Americans were drilled over and over again in 
throwing barrage fires, dum fires, zone fire, spot- 
ting and all the other details. They were not 
really taught these artillery tricks, for they knew 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


107 


them already. They merely made themselves 
perfect by continuous practice under the critical 
eyes of their instructors. 

Sometimes the batteries would be stationed 
under the crest of a hill. Scores of guns and 
caissons in a line, wheel to wheel they would 
form while their limbers were drawn up to the 
rear with the teams waiting still further back 
and hidden behind shrubbery screens. Then 
from the signal section by field telephone, would 
come firing instruction. 

“Volley fire” would come the command, “Four 
rounds. Corrector 22 Range, three eight, zero, 
zero (meaning 3800 yards ).” 

Then with the cannoneers working like beav- 
ers, shells would pass from caisson to gun breech, 
Gunners and No. 1 men would lay and aim the 
piece and presently four thunderous blasts would 
split the air as the guns roared together. 

The command would come or imaginary tar- 
gets would be selected. 

“Moving target, that line of infantry. By 
battery from the right.” Then over the field 
telephone “Deflection 10 Corrector 28 Range, 
three, zero, zero, zero.” 

From the right of the long line four guns 
would blaze away, and an interval later four 
more, until battery after battery had fired its 
charge. 


108 


BARRAGE EIRE BARNES 


Came then, instruction in barrage fire, when 
imaginary companies of infantry, under the pro- 
tection of a hot shell fire thrown just ahead of 
them, would advance on imaginary trenches. 

On these occasions the long line of guns would 
belch forth their deadly hail of shells as fast as 
the men could load and fire and a steady stream 
of shells would flow from caisson to gun breech, 
and from limbers to caissons when the caisson 
supply got low. The cannoneers worked like 
madmen then, for they realized that only by 
keeping up a constant rain of shells could the 
imaginary troops be protected from the imagi- 
nary enemy. 

These barrages were o^f different natures. 
Some were formed to completely obliterate trench 
lines and keep the occupants from appearing 
above ground to defend themselves; some were 
thrown ahead of advancing infantry to protect 
them from a counter-advance by the enemy, and 
some were thrown out to cut off a sector of 
trenches forming a veritable curtain of steel and 
fire, through which reinforcements could not ad- 
vance to assist their comrades who were cut off. 
Sometimes all three forms of barrage fire would 
be employed at once. 

And then when the men proved that they had 
the hang of the thing, real troops were used, 
companies of American soldiers advancing under 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 109 

protection of the curtain of exploding shells, and 
conducting an assault on a mimic enemy in make- 
believe trenches. 

All this was a lot of fun for the men. Espe- 
cially was it fun for the fellows of the first sec- 
tion of Battery J, who learned to work together 
like clock work. 

Corporal Scotty would show real authority 
then in his good-natured way. 

"Come on now, fellows, some pep,” he would 
shout as the section received the command to 
come into action. 

Then up the hill would sweep the gun and 
caissons, and into position. Swiftly the men 
would unlimber, and prepare to "give ’em fits”; 
rattling limbers would rush to the rear, and while 
the drivers unhitched the teams like lightning, 
the men would spring to their posts, the cover 
of the caisson would snap open, Ray would grab 
out a shell and pass it to Tommy; Tommy would 
adjust its nose, or pass it on to Chet as the oc- 
casion required, then it would go flying to Cas- 
sidy who would snap it into the breech while 
Falkner held open the breech block and mean- 
while Corporal Scotty would be aiming the piece. 

"Snap. Click gr-r-r” would go the shell and 
breech block. 

Then Scotty with a grunt of satisfaction would 
fire. 


110 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


“Crash” roared the piece, and the gun would 
settle down to its proper position, digging its tail 
or spade into the earth and Scotty would listen 
attentively for the report of his shot, while prep- 
arations were made for the next one. 

It was team work there; real team work, and 
Ray and Tommy and all the rest took a keen 
delight in working together to discover just how 
much accuracy and precision they could get into 
the job of serving the gun. 

Thus the intensive training kept up day after 
day, the fellows busy from morning until night. 
However, with all the work, the men did get a 
little chance to rest and to see the portion of 
France they were quartered in. Every few days 
some of the fellows managed to get a pass for 
an afternoon and evening off, and finally one day 
Ray was the fortunate one from his section. Of 
course the first place he started for was the city 

of V , whose spires could be seen from the 

big cantonment. On his way past the guard at 
the north entrance to the reservation he was sur- 
prised to run across a healthy-looking, wind- 
burned youth whom he recognized as Bud Grant. 

“Well, great guns, if it isn’t Bud!” he ex- 
claimed, rushing toward the chap in olive drab 
uniform. “Why the last place I saw you was in 
America, ol’ chap,” he said facetiously. 

“Hello, Ray, are you in this camp too? Shucks, 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLEKY 111 

that ©nly shows what a whale of a big place it 
is. Here we have been in the same cantonment 
for weeks and never knew we were near each 
other. Buck Sharp is here too, with the machine 
gun outfit. Guess the whole Division is quar- 
tered here. Where you bound for?” 

“Got a pass for town,” said Ray joyfully. 

“Huh, you aren’t the only one, I have too.” 

“Good, let’s go sight-seeing together,” cried 
Ray, and they did. 

They spent hours roaming about the big 
French city and every minute of the time con- 
tained a thrill, for V was crowded with 

troops of all nationalities, some on rest billet, 
some going to and some coming from the 
trenches, and the stories the fellows heard stirred 
in them a restless desire to be up and doing. 
Then to cap the climax whom should they run 
across in a restaurant they visited but Danny 
Kelly of the “Fightin’ Fifth” and his two side 
partners Cross Dawson and Mickey O’Connor. 
These three fellows were just back from a tour 
in the trenches, Danny with a puffed and swollen 
lip and a yawning hole in the front of his mouth 
where several teeth were missing, due to a col- 
lision with the butt of a rifle. Mickey too showed 
signs of battle with strips of plaster hiding a 
bullet graze on his cheek. And the stories that 
these fellows told Ray and Bud just naturally 


112 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


made them sick to think that they had not yet 
been in action. 

“Shucks,” said Ray, on their way back to the 
camp. “I wonder if we are ever going to be 
called into action?” 

“Search me,” said Bud succinctly. 

But Ray knew little how close he was to the 
liveliest action he could imagine. 

It was late when Ray arrived at the barracks 
that evening but much to his surprise he found 
most of the men of the battery awake and gath- 
ered in groups about the room, talking. This was 
unusual for generally, tired out with a hard day's 
work, the fellows rolled up in their blankets or 
sprawled out in their cots long before taps were 
sounded. 

Corporal Scotty, standing near the door pet- 
ting Spike and feeding him crackers, saw Ray as 
he came in and with a grin, he shouted, “You 
lucky kid. It's good you got your sight-seeing 
in when you did. No more passes from tonight 
on. 

“Yes? Well what does that mean?” asked 
Ray looking puzzled as he warded off Spike who 
leaped joyously toward him and tried playfully to 
nip his gloved hand. 

“What does it mean? Why, you ninny, it 
means there's something doing. Means we're 
going to move. W e're called to the action front.” 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


113 


“Whoope-e-e, when? Where do we go?” de- 
manded Ray. 

But Scotty grinned enigmatically. 

“Oh somewhere’s where there is more doin’ 
than there is here,” he said, as he began to strip 
off his leggings and shoes preparatory to turn- 
ing in. 


114 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE FIGHT FOR THE RIDGE. 

The ringing blasts of bugles at reveille awoke 
Ray to a cold, dull-looking dawn. He stretched 
and yawned and shivered in the chilled air that 
blew in at the always opened barracks windows, 
then getting up on his elbow he looked out to 
behold the entire cantonment clothed in a mantle 
of heavy sticky snow, while perfect clouds of big 
heavy flakes were floating downward in the dull 
gray light. 

Other fellows were stirring about the room, 
crawling reluctantly out of their blankets and 
hustling into their clothes as fast as they could, 
and Spike, always a good soldier, but a bit reluc- 
tant to get out of his warm bed too, crawled 
from under Ray’s cot and stretched himself and 
wagged his stump of a tail. 

Ray hustled into his clothes, and with a shiver 
hurried out to the wash room where he doused 
his face and hands in cold water and brushed his 
hair. Then back to the barracks he rushed to 
climb into the rest of his uniform and overcoat. 
Presently he joined the general push of men in 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


115 


the barracks street and lined up in a mixture of 
mud and snow for roll-call. 

The morning ceremonies were gone through 
with a briskness quite unusual, and then every 
man was electrified by an announcement from 
Lieutenant Ramsey. 

“Battery J will prepare to move immediately. 
Pack up for field service and report under Ser- 
geant Brush at Building 20 Quartermaster’s De- 
partment for a new is-sue of gas-masks and hel- 
mets.” 

Of course there was a lot of talk and specula- 
tion among the men when they were dismissed, 
as to just where they were bound for. But no 
one had a really definite idea apparently, save the 
officers and they would not tell. 

Like beavers they worked, packing their outfits 
for field service and at ten promptly, platoon af- 
ter platoon of men filed off toward the Quarter- 
master’s Department for the final touches to their 
equipment. 

Still the heavy, sticky snow fell and still there 
was a damp, nasty chill in the air, but the men 
were so interested in what was before them that 
they scarcely paid any attention to the weather. 
At noon a hasty but thorough inspection was 
called for and the men lined up in mushy snow, 
ankle-deep, while the officers went over their 
equipment. 


116 


BARRAGE EIRE BARNES 


Then came the call to harness! 

By this time the whole huge camp was active, 
and it was apparent that the major portion of the 
Division was about to go into active service, leav- 
ing the big cantonment deserted but ready for a 
new contingent of Uncle Sam's boys. 

Preparing the Battery to move was no mean 
task, and it was some time before all was ready. 
Then at the sharp command of Captain Blan- 
chard, the outfit, with a rattle and rumble of 
field-pieces and caissons and the clanking of har- 
ness chains, pulled out of the camp, and started 
through the slush and mud toward the city of 
V . 

“Wow, we're off," cried Ray poking Tommy 
Wrenn in the ribs with his elbow. Then he called 
to the bedraggled looking creature trotting along 
in the rear of the caissons, “Here, Spike, come 
on up. You'll get your feet wet." 

Spike needed no second invitation. Up he 
jumped. But just at that moment a horseman 
was cantering up the line. 

“Well, by George, that pup still about? He 
can't go. Send him back," said the horseman, 
who of course was Lieutenant Ramsey. 

Ray saluted. “I don't believe he will go back, 
sir," he said. 

“Well, perhaps not. But he won't stay long 
where we are going. Take him along. That will 



“That pup still about > He can’t go. Send him back’* 

Page 116. 


ft 


















. • •' 
























OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


117 


be the easiest way to get rid of him,” smiled the 
officer. But Lieutenant Ramsey did not know 
then the pluck that that little fuzzy Airedale pos- 
sessed. 

“All right along you go, Spike, but if you quit 
when you hear the whizz-bangs a-poppin’ I’ll 
be ashamed of you,” said Ray to the dog, patting 
him fondly. 

The City of V was one mass of soldiers, 

transports, ammunition trains, ambulances and 
artillery. Every street was crowded with them 
and Battery J only added more to the mass and 
the general confusion. For an hour they lay 
beside the curb in one of the main streets of the 
town, unable to move because of the jam of motor 
trucks and marching troops. Apparently this 
was the distributing point for the forces to be 
used in that general section of the country, for 
troops marched and counter-marched in endless 
procession, some leaving the city by one road and 
some by another. And evidently the same thing 
had been happening all da> long. 

That there were activities of great importance 
afoot could not be doubted, for, although the 
troop-shifting was being done in full daylight, 
which was not usual, above the city sailed cease- 
lessly a half dozen aeroplanes, evidently patrol- 
ling the sky, to keep German observation ma- 


118 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


chines from soaring over to have a peep at what 
was going on. 

Ray and Tommy watched the planes witn in- 
terest, and as they realized that these war birds 
were guarding them, they experienced a peculiar 
sensation. They had that vacant, nervous feeling 
in their stomachs, and they wondered a lot what 
was in store for them in the not very remote 
future. 

As they lay there in the city, waiting their turn 
to move, the heavy snow changed to rain, which 
made the roadways a mass of sticky slimy mud. 
Their heavy overcoats shed the water for a long 
time but eventually they began to get soaked and 
heavy, and every one was as uncomfortable as 
could be, and nervous and anxious to be off. 

Eventually the traffic jams were untangled, 
and it came the turn of Battery J to move. On 
they rumbled, going clear through the city and 
turning off to the right in the opposite direction 
to which they had seen most of the American 
troops moving. 

“Bet we are going to relieve some English bat- 
teries in a quiet sector/' guessed Corporal Scotty, 
and in part of his guess he was right. They did 
relieve English batteries all right, but the section 
was far from quiet. 

Once clear of the town the commanding officers 
of each platoon signaled increased gait by the 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY lift 

regular artillery arm signals, and soon the entire 
line was trundling forward at top speed, which,, 
unfortunately, because of the mired and sticky 
conditions of the road, was not exceptionally 
fast. 

On they dashed, sometimes rolling through 
mud-pits a foot deep, sometimes skidding off the 
road entirely, in imminent peril of overturning* 
into roadside ditches. Sometimes a gun or cais- 
son became bogged in a mass of soggy mud and 
then the fellows turned to and almost knee deep 
waded in and pushed it onto the road again. Still 
they moved forward as swiftly as possible, and 
as they cut down the distance toward the battle 
front, the booming of guns and the noise of bat- 
tle grew louder and louder, until it was a con- 
tinuous moan that sounded even above the 
rumble of the moving battery. 

Twice, during the afternoon, they passed lines 
of marching troops J^ound in the same direction. 
These drew up at ^he roadside to let them pass, 
and each time a wave of cheers swept up and 
down the line for the soldiers were Poilus, and 
to see American batteries going into action 
pleased them a lot. 

“Those are the boys we are going to support 
probably,” said Tommy. 

“Well they look a husky bunch and I guess they 
won't lean on us very hard,” said Ray jokingly. 


120 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


On they pushed; mile after mile of muddy road 
'Was left behind. Through one. town after an- 
other they spattered, always to find thousands 
of soldiers congregated in each hamlet, all in full 
equipment and on the move somewhere. It was 
apparent to even the most inexperienced of the 
fellows that a big shifting of troops was taking 
place for some reason or other. 

A dull and soggy evening came on and merged 
into a very dark night, yet on rolled the batteries. 
But the darkness was punctuated now by glaring 
flashes, and sudden red glows in the northern 
sky. Finger-like rays of searchlights crossed and 
criss-crossed in the heavens, and star-shells sailed 
aloft bursting and throwing a ghastly white light 
far, far ahead. They were drawing nearer and 
nearer the trenches. As they went on, passing 
regiments became more numerous. 

They rumbled through a base. Here bivou- 
acked beside the road were thousands and thou- 
sands of Poilus waiting for something. Motor 
lorries were moving in and out of the town, offi- 
cers were calling orders, orderlies were hurrying 
from place to place, an occasional ambulance 
threaded its way through the jam, always in a 
hurry to get somewhere. 

For ten minutes they rested in the town, and 
as they sat there shivering in the rain, occasion- 
ally Ray and Tommy heard heavy detonations 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 121 

near by, and off in the fields a half mile from the 
town they would see the flash and glare of the 
shell-bursts. 

“Wow, we’re going right in among those fel- 
lows,” said Ray, a little awed at the terrific noise 
and concussion, which did not seem to have the 
slightest effect on the men by the roadside who 
were huddled under trees and all other forms of 
protection against the rain. 

Tommy’s teeth were chattering. Ray con- 
cluded it must be from the cold, but Tommy con- 
fessed to a decided feeling of nervousness. 

“Yeh, Ray. We’re going to have those shells 
for chums for a while. But I guess they’ll break 
us in at a quiet sector, don’t you think so ? Hon- 
est, I’m scared stiff I think.” 

“Well I don’t feel so all-fired comfortable my- 
self,” admitted Ray. “How — er — say, do you 
think we are very far from the front? It doesn’t 
look more than a couple of good jumps away, 
does it?” 

“Oh I guess we are easily five miles away,” 
said Tommy. “And — say, feel Spike — he’s shiv- 
ering all over.” 

Spike was cuddled up on the caisson seat be- 
tween them and he was shivering in every fibre. 
Each time a heavier explosion occurred, he would 
start nervously and shiver some more. 


122 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


“Guess you are like all the rest of us, Spike. 
Scared stiff,” said Ray. 

Presently they moved on. Through the dark- 
ness came the order : 

“Battedy J — Forward — Ho !” 

Again the now steaming horses leaned into the 
collars, again the pieces and caissons trundled 
forward — this time on the last lap of their jour- 
ney to the firing line. 

On they rumbled. The base was but a mile 
behind. The shells were bursting terrifyingly 
near. 

Suddenly through the darkness ahead came the 
sharp rattle of a Klaxon horn, and out of the 
blackness swooped a motorcycle carrier. He was 
shouting : 

“American Batteries — Hurry! Hurry! Get 
into position 208 as fast as you can! They’ve 
caught us on the move ! Their batteries are open- 
ing up now! They’ll come over in twenty min- 
utes ! Our men are just leaving the trenches and 
the French haven’t come up yet. The British 
batteries are all ready to turn the position over 
to you! They can’t get back into action again, 
because they have used most of their ammunition. 
Hurry! There’s a gap in the line and the Huns 
will come pouring through in half an hour. 
Hurry!” 

Sounding out of the blackness ahead the voice 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


123 


of the courier was husky and appealing. It sent 
a thrill through the men of J Battery. In an 
instant all was action. 

Commands were shouted down the line. Cou- 
riers on horses scattered in the night, plunging 
back toward the base to arrange for ammunition 
supply. Battery J, in the lead of five other bat- 
teries, was the first to move. With a shout and 
a snap of their short quirts, the three drivers of 
the piece started their broad-shouldered, deep- 
chested horses to straining at their iron collars. 
With a grunt the heavy teams threw themselves 
forward. The field piece broke loose from the 
clutches of the cold, freezing mud and started 
ahead with a rattle. The caisson followed, lurch- 
ing and rolling over the uneven road, causing 
Ray and Tommy and the rest of the men to cling 
on in a frenzy. One after another of the other 
pieces of the battery started too, and soon the 
second, third, fourth and fifth batteries in line 
got under way, and a long cavalcade of plung- 
ing snorting horses and swaying field pieces were 
rolling forward. Twenty guns were coming up 
into action; twenty American artillery sections, 
the pick of the National Guard of that single 
state back home, were splashing and lurching and 
careening through the mud of France, plunging 
eagerly forward to the relief of the surprised 


124 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

British batteries somewhere up there in position 
208* 

On they splashed nearer and nearer and nearer 
the battle line, and in the excitement of it all Ray 
and Tommy forgot to shiver in the cold and even 
Spike, all excitement too, ceased to tremble at 
each bursting shell, despite the fact that they fell 
thicker and thicker about them, some bursting 
dangerously near the roadway. Indeed, every 
man, though this was their first experience under 
shell fire, found that he was complete master of 
himself. Not one showed signs of cowardice or 
weakness. They paid little attention to the burst- 
ing shells, for they were keyed up by the excite- 
ment of the race. Little did they think of the 
dangers they were plunging into and little did 
they realize that some of them would be victims 
of those bursting shells before long. 

Forward they swept drawing nearer and 
nearer a black and shadowy hill over the top of 
which the light of battle played, telling plainly 
that in the valley behind, men were fighting with 
terrific violence. The shells were raining thicker 
about them for the Germans now searching for 
the road on which they traveled, were trying 
hard to throw a barrage across it that would 
prevent the bringing up of troops. 

Two hundred yards away to the left, a shell 
exploded with a terrible roar and a blinding glare. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


125 


The horses balked and pranced, the caisson that 
Ray and Tommy occupied seemed to sway vio- 
lently with the concussion. Nearer and behind 
them another one followed. Ray looking back- 
ward saw one of the lead horses on a field piece 
of the second platoon go down, throwing others, 
and slipping and sliding about the road. Around 
to the side swayed the line of guns that followed 
while the drivers leapt down and cut the harness 
of the dead horse away. Then the piece swung 
into line again with but five horses in the team. 
On and on they lurched and swayed. The shell- 
ing was terrific. But the officers urged them to 
go faster for they knew that in the matter of 
minutes an impenetrable barrage of shells would 
be falling across that zone and it would be im- 
possible to bring through any guns that were 
caught on the wrong side. 

Up the slope they rushed. The entire country 
as far as the men could see, by the flashing light 
of battle, was a mass of shell holes, with here 
and there gaunt, stark, shell-torn trees standing 
out in a terrain whipped into a sea of mud by 
the constant explosions. 

Soon they came to the first signs of the British 
battery they were to relieve; three dead horses 
and an overturned caisson piled up on the hill 
slope. A shell had smashed it just as it was 
turning back toward the ridge again. A hundred 


126 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

yards further on was another mass of horses and 
wreckage and reaching out through the debris 
was the sleek nose of a gun that had been put 
out of action power. 

Up the ridge they tore. There they found the 
remnants of the British Battery guns in place, 
but the men helplessly sweating and fuming be- 
cause of no ammunition with which to serve the 
pieces. 

Down dashed the American battery in a spat- 
ter of mud. A yell went up from the Tommy 
artillerymen. They yanked their pieces out of 
position as fast as the mud and a rain of shells 
would permit them to move. And as each gun 
swung out of line or made room, an American 
piece swung into place, unlimbered, and in a 
thrice began firing. 

To Ray and Tommy, now keyed to the very 
highest pitch of nervous excitement, this was all 
as thrilling as could be. But though they were 
intensely excited they kept their heads amazingly 
well. 

The first section gun swung into place al- 
most beside a British piece, and the fellows 
bounded from their seats, and unlimbered as 
quickly and as precisely as they always did in 
practice. Then with limbers rumbling to the 
rear, Ray threw open the steel covers of the cais- 
son, while Scotty and Falkner, working fever- 


OF THE FIELD ABTILLEEY 127 

ishly, with Corporal Norman, Chet and Buck ran 
the gun into position. 

Ray seized a shell and held it in the crook of 
his arm waiting. Tommy bobbed up beside him 
presently and seized it, then like lightning it 
passed from hand to hand and into the open 
breech, as out of the darkness came the range, 
being constantly chanted off by men at the field 
telephone. Meanwhile Scotty and Falkner laid 
the piece on the target. Then: “Ready,” came 
the yell. 

“Fire!” was the answer. 

“Boom!” roared the field piece and the First 
Section gun had fired the first shot of Battery 
J in the big war; moreover it had fired it before 
the second gun was in position. 

Up came the other guns in a mad dash now, 
piece after piece swinging into line, and soon, 
although the British were withdrawing, the en- 
tire line of 75's along the ridge was intact again 
and bellowing forth a deadly chorus, while the 
ground shook with the detonations. 

But the Huns were giving them fits just the 
same. The rain of shells that fell about the ridge 
position was something terrific. Already down 
in the valley the German advance was on. Ray 
and the rest could hear the roar of the battle, and 
to them came the deadly battle cries of the Huns. 
How were things going down there? Would the 


128 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


Tommies hold them back until the French relief 
came up ? It was a serious question. Conditions 
were terrible down there. Everyone could see 
that. Smoke and flames swept through the val- 
ley, and in the heart of it all, blinding, glaring 
flashes burst continuously. It was the worst din 
Ray had ever listened to. 

And while he crouched there behind the cover 
of the caisson, silently passing shells, he tried to 
work out the position as he could see it with oc- 
casional glimpses and by the light of shell-glares. 

On the slope of the hill beneath him, he knew 
that the English trenches were established. From 
the clouds of smoke rising he guessed there were 
three lines down there. These were all being 
shelled by the Germans, for the projectiles were 
bursting all the way up the slope, and in the air 
above the ridge and even far behind it. Down 
there in the valley the first line troops were clos- 
ing, and the British, taken unawares, were doubt- 
less getting the worst of it. 

Slowly the battle seemed to surge up the slope 
out of the valley and toward the artillery posi- 
tion. The veil of smoke and flashing fire was 
rolling toward them. The Huns were pressing 
the slight advantage they had gained. They were 
trying to clear that side of the valley and roll the 
Tommies back. 

And they of the new artillery up there on the 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


129 


ridge, and behind the crest were hurling 75’s 
into the Hun domains as fast as they could, 
trying to hold them back and to kill off that ter- 
rible cannonade that the Germans kept up in- 
cessantly. 

It was wonderful to be in the thick of it all. 
Ray found himself working in a frenzy. Shells 
that dully reflected the cannon’s flashes on the 
brass and steel surface, slipped from the caisson 
into the crook of his arm and were passed on to 
the waiting Tommy by his side, and when the 
compartments in the caisson began to get vacant, 
extra cannoneers rushed a steady stream to him 
from the limbers in the rear where the reserve 
supply was kept. 

As he worked, Ray watched his companions. 
Tommy, rain-soaked and mud bespattered, 
crouched beside him with Chet on his right, and 
both were manipulating the shell noses as calmly 
as if they were on the practice field. Then there 
was the husky Cassidy, who, with overcoat and 
tunic stripped off, and sleeves rolled part way up 
his knotty arms, fed the field piece. He reached 
for a shell, seized it, swung to his right, stepped 
forward and jammed it home as Falkner threw 
open the breech block and sent the empty case 
jangling and clanking to the ground. 

Falkner worked like a machine too. The breech 
snapped out, clicked shut and was locked regu- 


130 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


larly, and between shots he bent to his instruments 
as he sat straddle-legged over the iron seat pro- 
vided for him beside the recoiling barrel. Cor- 
poral Scotty on the other side was as steady as a 
statue. His calm eye was fastened through the 
sights on the enemy's position, while his quick ear 
listened for the repeated call of the range-man at 
the telephone, telling him of each change in firing 
data. And last of all there was Spike, all nervous- 
ness gone, crouching calmly down behind the steel 
plate of the caisson, almost under his feet. Evi- 
dently the dog did not know what to make of it all, 
but he never whimpered. 

Thus they worked, and thus too did everyone 
of the twenty guns on the American batteries on 
the ridge work, and the most experienced veteran 
from a glimpse at them there could not have 
found the slightest indication that this was their 
first time in action; that this was their baptism of 
fire. 

In the valley still surged the battle, growing 
fiercer and more intense with every minute. Up 
the slope too, crawled the din and roar as the 
Teuton horde, strong in numbers and fighting like 
maniacs, slowly drove the Tommies from one line 
of defense to another. Ray, crouching there, 
could see with each glance he took, that the battle 
was changing. And always it seemed changing 
for the worst. The flash and fire and deafening 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


131 


din crept up the slope of the hill. It was coming 
up, on toward the batteries, slowly but inexorably. 
How far would they advance? How long would 
they drive the Tommies back? Could they take 
the entire slope of the hill? Could they carry the 
high ground where the batteries were ? That was 
what they were trying for. That was what they 
were fighting for. Ray guessed that that little 
ridge was worth a lot to the enemy. Certainly 
they were paying a terrible cost in dead and 
wounded to gain it. 

Faster and faster worked the battery, but fas- 
ter and faster rolled the tide of battle toward 
them, and faster and faster too rained shells about 
their position. Off to the left of him Ray saw a 
blinding flash. The concussion almost hurled him 
off his feet. The shell had burst underneath the 
No. 4 field piece and in an instant converted it 
into a hopeless mass of twisted steel and splin- 
tered wood, smeared and bespattered with the 
blood of the American cannoneers. Somewhat 
to the right and rear, another burst among a 
park of limbers, tossing them in the air, and 
changing them in an instant to so much junk. Al- 
ways there was that singing whine of passing 
shells in the air. Ray wondered vaguely why 
some of them did not drop closer to the First Sec- 
tion’s position. They burst above them, below 
them on the ridge, and to their rear, but luck 


132 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


seemed to shield them against a direct hit. Once 
one burst fifty yards in front of the gun that 
Scotty and Falkner were serving and the piece 
literally bounced in the air, rearing up like a 
frightened steed. Scotty and Falkner were 
thrown to the ground, but unhurt they scrambled 
up again and an instant later the gun was back 
into position once more, unharmed and firing with 
its same clock-like regularity. 

But as the tide of battle advanced slowly up the 
ridge, a new note was added to the whining of 
shells. It was the singing of rifle bullets coming 
up the slope from the trenches below. Soon these 
were humming over the battery as thick as flies. 
Ray heard them ping-g-g off the steel tires of the 
caisson’s wheels, he heard them thump against 
the steel plate behind which he crouched, and 
twice tiny, pencil like holes were torn through the 
heavy steel cover over his head, one of the spent 
bullets thumping against his helmet and dropping 
down almost into his lap. 

“Crackey, what do you think of that,” he ex- 
claimed, as he hastily picked up the bent ball, and 

slipped it into his pocket. “That nearly 

Look! Tommy! Jimminy, there goes Scotty!” 

Ray saw the big gunner in the very act of firing 
the piece crumple up and fall in a heap. 

Falkner hastily leapt toward him, but the mo- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


133 


ment he stepped outside the protection of the steel 
plate of the gun, he too went down with a wild 
cry, at the same time clutching at his breast. 

Ray and Tommy both made a movement as if 
to go to the rescue of the two men who were 
down. 

“Stretcher-bearers this way! Here stretcher- 
bearers! Come on! Where are you, sleeping ?” 
A figure shot forward and took his place astride 
the seat from which Scotty had so recently top- 
pled. It was Caisson Corporal Norman, next in 
command to Scotty. 

“Here you, cannoneers, move up,” he cried, 
“Cassidy No. i ! You, Warren, No. 2, Wrenn 
and Barnes move up ! Where’s Morton, Morton ! 
Morton !” 

“Morton’s gone, killed,” cried a man leaping 
toward Corporal Norman. It was Hayes, an ex- 
tra cannoneer who had been carrying shells from 
the limber. 

“All right, Hayes, you take No. 5. Ready. 
Range !” Boom ! 

The section was in action once more, and as 
they fired, four daring, blood-stained and mud- 
covered stretcher-bearers, crouching low and tak- 
ing advantage of every protection, rushed for- 
ward and loaded the limp and moaning forms of 
Gun Corporal Scotty Arbuckle and Cannoneer 


134 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


Falkner onto their stretchers, then scuttled away 
into darkness. 

It had all happened so swiftly that Ray scarcely 
realized what had transpired. He found himself 
listening for ranges and mechanically adjusting 
the fuse length of each shell exactly as if he had 
been doing it all his life. 

Still the battle grew hotter, and still the shells 
burst thick and fast. Presently a man staggered 
up from in front of the caisson, turned and 
ducked behind it for protection, to fall dead al- 
most in Ray's lap. Ray saw he was a Tommie, 
driven out from the trenches below. 

“1 guess they're getting it rough down there;” 
cried Ray to Tommy. Then he stood up a little 
higher and looked down the slope. Not three hun- 
dred yards away were the clouds of smoke and 
fire that marked the battle front. He could see 
hundreds of shadowy figures, silhouetted against 
the flashing light. They were fighting, clawing 
maniacs it seemed to Ray. 

“Jimminy, Tommy, we’ve got to get out of here 
mighty soon I should say. Those Boches are 
coming on." 

But Ray had hardly spoken when he heard 
above the din of battle, shrill whistles and the 
brazen notes of a bugle. 

“Tommy, that's retreat!" cried Ray, recogniz- 
ing the call, and springing to immediate action. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


135 


“Come on,” he yelled, ''it's too hot for us up 
here. They’ll be on us in another five minutes,” 
and he bent to the task of making the caisson se- 
cure for a change of position, working madly. 


136 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


CHAPTER X. 
retreat ! 

The Huns were coming on. Other shadowy 
forms, some coatless and helmetless, some drag- 
ging themselves, some staggering and stumbling 
with unsteady steps, some even crawling, came up 
the slope and passed the guns on the hills. They 
were beaten Tommies, wounded and dying, who 
were trying hard to get out of the path of battle. 
The Boches were driving them from their 
trenches. 

Indeed it was high time the Battery changed 
it's position. Every man of them in the First Sec- 
tion at least, realized that. Ray and Tommy, and 
Chet Warren, with grim white faces, Corporal 
Norman and Buck Cassidy, blood-smeared and 
wounded, worked frantically to make things se- 
cure, meanwhile calling loudly for the horses and 
limbers. 

Down the line, first one gun and then another 
rattled out of position and away in the darkness. 
They were leaving fast. 

“Horses! Horses! Horses!’’ Where were 
the horses for the First Section. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


137 


“Drivers! Oh, Drivers! Gamble! Davis! 
Bring up those horses !” roared Corporal Norman. 
The piece and caisson were ready for the limbers. 
But the horses were nowhere in sight. In des- 
peration the fellows began to drag the heavy field 
piece toward the rear. They sweated and pulled 
and tugged and shouted. They must get the piece 
out of there; out of the way of the oncoming 
Huns. 

More Tommies and still more Tommies stag- 
gered past them. The Boches were pushing on- 
ward. Bullets rained about them. Shells roared, 
scattering rocks and earth on high. Chaos 
reigned. “Horses ! Drivers ! Horses !” they 
yelled frantically. 

All the guns were away now except the piece of 
the First Section. The others were rattling off 
through the darkness to a new position, and Ray 
and Tommy and the rest of the valiant little 
squad of the First Section were still struggling 
with their piece and calling for horses. 

Through the vivid light of battle dashed a 
single figure, shouting loudly : 

“Come, come men! Get it out; out of there! 
The gun ! Save it ! Where are the horses !” It 
was Lieutenant Ramsey. 

“No one knows,” screamed Corporal Norman. 
“Hayes has gone to the rear for them. He hasn’t 
come back. Where, oh where — ugh — I’m — I’m 


138 


BARRAGE FIEE BARNES 


shot ” Corporal Norman reeled and stag- 

gered, then fell at the Lieutenant's feet, dead. The 
Lieutenant was horrified for a moment. He stag- 
gered back. Then, mastering himself, he yelled. 

“Stand by to protect the gun! Wrenn, go to 
the rear and see if you can find the horses." 

At the command, every fellow leapt to a crouch- 
ing position about the piece and whipped out auto- 
matic pistols. The Tommies were falling back 
fast now. And here and there an advance guard of 
the Boches made their appearance. Two came 
howling over the crest of the hill, bayonets lev- 
elled, mad eyes staring, lips parted and teeth 
showing. They looked like madmen. 

Ray saw them coming and coolly raised his 
pistol. 

“Wang, wang, wang,” spoke the automatic, and 
one of the Huns, with a wild yell, threw up his 
hands, staggered, and rolled down the hill. The 
other one stopped still in his tracks, turned 
slightly, and then Lieutenant Ramsey brought 
him down. 

But others came on. Here were three, helmets 
off, and hair flying. One carried a bayonet rifle, 
the others had glittering trench knives in their 
hands. 

They hardly topped the hill, however, when 
from behind the steel shield of the gun, five auto- 
matics spat toward them, and they all went down. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 139 

Then Ray heard a rattle and clank close behind 
him, and turned to behold the most thrilling spec- 
tacle of the night. Davis, a lonesome driver in 
the saddle of the lead horse, was lashing and driv- 
ing five of the six horses for the field piece, while 
behind, handling four other steeds, came Tommy 
Wrenn. 

“The horses! The horses !” he shrieked, and 
with a yell plunged toward the frightened neigh- 
ing animals. 

Eagerly he lent his efforts to hook up the ani- 
mals. The caisson was forgotten. It was the 
field piece that was important. And there, the 
battle at its height, with bullets whistling about 
them, he and Tommy and Davis snapped on the 
trace-chains and hooked up. Meanwhile, others 
gathered around and fought off each Boche that 
showed above the crest of the hill. It was a won- 
derfully thrilling and exciting moment. 

“All ready, sir — no, one’s down,” cried Davis. 
Then, “Quick, quick, cut him out! Slash the har- 
ness !” 

A bullet had killed one of the animals while in 
harness. Knives flashed quickly. The harness 
was slashed, and all was ready again. 

“Go, Go!” cried Lieutenant Ramsey, as Davis 
vaulted into the saddle of the lead horse and 
Tommy hurled himself astride another. Ray and 
Chet leaped to the seats of the limber and Cassidy 


140 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

and the Lieutenant made for the seats of the field 
piece. 

Away they rumbled, the field piece lurching and 
swaying on through the darkness, the eager 
horses galloping madly away from the noise and 
fire of the battle. On and on and on they plunged 
through the darkness, sometimes sticking to a 
shell-scarred and uneven road, and sometimes 
making across open fields of mud, where the 
heavy gun all but mired. On they pushed to the 
rear. 

A mile had been put between them and the top 
of the ridge when Ray on his pitching, swaying 
limber seat suddenly remembered Spike; fuzzy 
old Spike. The last he had seen the dog was when 
he was crouching patiently behind the caisson, 
waiting doubtless, until that should be hooked up 
and moved too. Ray gazed about the weirdly bat- 
tle lighted landscape, half hoping to see the dog 
following them. Spike was not to be seen. Has- 
tily he glanced backward. Then he gasped and 
clutched Chet’s arm, for he had discovered that 
the seats on the gun where the Lieutenant and 
Cassidy had been were vacant. How long they 
had been vacant he could not guess. Something 
had happened to the officer and to their bunkie, 
Buck. 

In one fleeting second Ray made up his mind 
as to what his duty was. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


141 


“I'm going back and find the Lieutenant,” he 
screamed in Chet’s ear. 

And the “dude”, the Battery’s “spoiled boy,” 
turned a white face toward Ray, and yelled back : 

“I’m going with you.” 

Though the piece was rolling on at breakneck 
speed, the boys chanced a jump. Ray flung him- 
self from one side, landed, fell, rolled over, out of 
the path of the flying wheels, and staggered to his 
feet just in time to see Chet do likewise on the 
other side of the road. 

Hurriedly they joined each other, and then at 
a hard run they started back along the road, try- 
ing meanwhile to determine their recent position 
on the hill, now all vivid with the flame of battle. 

Even in the weird, flashing light from bursting 
shells, it was hard to follow the course of the field 
piece back the way they had come. On they ran, 
searching here and there for signs of the officer, 
and Cassidy. Soon they began again to hear the 
zipp-zipp-zipping of bullets over their heads, and 
presently they discovered that they were travel- 
ing a belt that was under the direct fire of the 
Huns’ artillery. The shells fell thicker and faster 
as they hurried on, and soon ahead of them they 
beheld a perfect wall of bursting shells, falling so 
thick and fast that it seemed like suicide to at- 
tempt to get through. 


142 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

Chet stopped short and clutched Ray’s arm. 
“Can we make it?” he screamed. 

“Make it! Shucks, it’s only a barrage fire,” 
cried the excited Ray, “we must make it !” 

Chet looked at him in amazement. “Only a 
barrage fire.” The deadly curtain of steel, the 
worst menace of modern warfare was termed, 
“only a barrage fire” by this mad fellow at his 
side. 

“Ray ! Ray ! Think ! It’s sure death if we try 
to get through. It’s — it’s ” 

“Yes, yes, I know, but I’m going through ! The 
Lieutenant! Cassidy! Spike! I must find one 
of them. They need me!” 

“All right! I’m going too!” yelled Chet, and 
again they plunged forward. 

Running that barrage fire was a nightmare. 
Leaping, darting, dodging, halting and plunging 
forward, they went on. Straight through the cur- 
tain of bursting steel and fire they plunged. A 
shell splinter whistled over Ray’s head and ripped 
his steel helmet open from crown to rim. Another 
piece tore a huge hunk out of his overcoat. 

Chet, close behind him, fared little better. A 
steel particle whizzed by and opened a gash in his 
cheek. Another piece struck him in the thick of 
his leg, and cut a wound there. Yet on he stag- 
gered, following closely on the heels of the daring 
Ray. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


143 


An instant later they were through the zone of 
bursting shells, and rushing on, uphill toward the 
ridge. But they had hardly gone a hundred yards 
when, with a yell, Ray plunged toward the right, 
and swooping down, caught up in his arms a wrig- 
gling, barking, fuzzy Airedale. It was Spike ! 

But Spike kicked and barked and yelped and 
made a most awful fuss in Ray’s arms, and Ray 
could not understand it. It seemed as if the dog 
wanted to be put down on the ground again. 

Ray let him down, and then, still barking, Spike 
raced on ahead a little way and then came back 
and barked some more. He repeated these actions 
several times before Chet understood it all. 

“Ray, Ray, he wants us to follow him. Come 
on. He’s found the Lieutenant or Cassidy, or I 
miss my guess.” 

“By George, I believe you are right !” cried Ray, 
“Come on.” 

Off they dashed again, with the dog for a guide. 
Back toward the ridge they plunged, on and on 
through intermittent darkness and light; through 
scenes weird and awful, through glimpses of hor- 
ror and untold agony, through the worst havoc 
they ever saw. Over the uneven, shot-riddled and 
muddy ground they hurried as fast as they could 
move. They had long since exhausted all natural 
strength. They were going forward on nerve 
alone. Keyed up to the highest pitch of excite- 


144 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


ment, they little realized what they had been 
through that night. On they hurried, following 
the dog. And presently Spike stopped and stood 
for an instant on the brink of a shell crater. Then 
with a series of barks and yelps he plunged in. 

Ray and Chet hurried after him, and there hud- 
dled together in the bottom of the shell hole, both 
unconscious and both covered with blood, were 
the Lieutenant and Cassidy. Hardly had their 
journey from the ridge on the seats of the field 
piece started, when a Hun, coming over the crest, 
saw them going, and hurled a hand grenade at 
them. That grenade had unseated them both, and 
fragments had wounded each of them. They had 
but strength enough to crawl into the shelter of 
the shell crater, when they became helpless from 
pain and loss of blood. 

Both were partly conscious when Ray and Chet 
bent over them. 

“Get — get — us out of here for mercy’s sake,” 
moaned the Lieutenant, while Cassidy groaned, 
“My shoulder, my shoulder. Give me a drink. 
My shoulder.” 

In the protection of the shell crater, Ray and 
Chet had time to give first aid at least to the officer 
and the cannoneer. Both were given drinks from 
the boys’ canteens. Then the blood stains were 
washed away as nicely as possible, and the Lieu- 
tenant’s head was bound up to protect a jagged 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


145 


wound across his forehead. Cassidy’s shoulder 
received attention too, and meanwhile, Spike, the 
real rescuer, crouched in the bottom of the shell 
hole, licking a bloody wound on his flank where a 
Hun bullet had creased him. 

The first-aid work done, Ray crawled to the top 
of the shell crater and looked out. Over the ridge 
the battle still raged, but he could see that the 
Tommies had dug themselves in where the Bat- 
tery’s gun emplacements had been. And here, with 
reinforcements of French troops brought through 
the barrage fire somehow, they were standing off 
the Boches until more help could be brought up. 

He noted, too, that the barrage fire behind them 
had been lifted because the Germans had short- 
ened the range of guns to bombard the top of the 
ridge once more. For the present, at least, the 
road to the rear was open. How long it would re- 
main that way was a question. 

“Come on, Chet, let’s get ’em in : get ’em back 
to the base or somewhere else out of here,” he 
cried. Then he added, “Lieutenant, can you 
walk?” 

He received no answer. 

“Lieutenant, do you think Crackey, Chet, 

he’s fainted again. Guess we had better hurry. 
I’ll take him and you attend to Cassidy.” 

Chet was stooping over the Irishman. Cassidy 


146 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


was mumbling something. It was plain gibberish. 
The fellow was out of his head. 

“Cassidy’s gone out of his head. He’s raving, 
Ray,” cried Chet, still white, but determined look- 
ing. 

Then we must get them out of here. Come on, 
I’ll give you a hand. 

As best he could, he raised Cassidy and hoisted 
him over the shoulders of Chet. “Take him fire- 
man fashion. You know how,” he said to Chet. 
But Chet, never having been a Boy Scout, did not 
know how to carry the wounded man until Ray 
hoisted the Lieutenant to his shoulders and 
showed him how. 

All adjusted, they staggered up the slope of the 
shell crater and out into the open once more, with 
the capering Spike at their heels. Still the bullets 
zipped about and still an occasional shell burst be- 
hind the ridge, and Ray and Chet, loaded down 
with their precious freight, were forced to crouch 
as low as they could, and run forward swiftly for 
fear of becoming a mark for one of these whining 
bullets. On they plunged, a bit unsteady at times, 
for the ground was rough and their strength was 
fast going. They had done a great deal that 
night, those two husky young Americans, and 
they began to feel the strain. Yet they knew that 
they could not give in now. They knew that they 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 147 

must push on until they found a dressing station 
or until they reached the base. 

Forward they staggered. They were panting 
and perspiring under the strain. Ray felt weak 
and tired. Every muscle in his body ached. His 
head was spinning. For a moment he felt as if 
he were fainting, but with a superhuman effort he 
steadied himself, and gritting his teeth in deter- 
mination, he went on. 

He must go on he told himself. He must 

From the darkness ahead came the rumble of a 
motor. Then a call. 

“Look out ! Get out !” 

“Hi, Hi, are you an ambulance ?” Ray cried, for 
the vehicle was traveling without lights, as all 
ambulances do at the battle front. 

“Yes, from base No. 4,” cried a voice, which 
Ray was almost certain he recognized. 

“Here, for goodness sake, take these wounded 
men, will you/' he cried. 

In a moment the ambulance had stopped. Then 
from out of the darkness came a call. “Here, this 
way, where are you?” 

At that moment a shell burst behind the ridge 
and by the vivid flash of light Ray saw the am- 
bulance standing in the road, two men with hel- 
mets were climbing from the driver’s seat. 

“This way, Chet,” he called, and Chet, who had 
staggered on, came back. 


148 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


Ambulance drivers and rescuers found each 
other in the darkness, and the wounded Lieuten- 
ant and Cassidy were put on stretchers and safely 
stowed away inside. 

“Where’d you fellows come from?” asked one 
of the drivers, and Ray was again certain he had 
heard the man speak before. 

“From the right, off the ridge.” 

“Why, shucks man, you two have been walking 
in a circle almost around a dressing station. If 
you had gone over that way a hundred yards and 
a quarter of a mile further on you would — here, 
here, man, what’s up. What’s the matter? 
Crackey, Hopper, he’s all in. Bring a pocket 
flash, quick.” 

Ray, standing there, the strain over, had re- 
laxed a moment, only to find himself caving in 
entirely. His head swam and weird lights danced 
before his eyes. He began to sway, and to steady 
himself, he put his hand on the ambulance driv- 
er’s shoulder, only to fall forward into his arms. 
He was himself a few moments later, but he was 
weak and trembling all over, and limply he sat 
down on the rear step of the vehicle. 

One of the drivers produced a pocket flash lamp 
and guardedly flashed it onto his face. Then the 
light went out. 

“Great snakes,” exclaimed the ambulance man, 
“if it isn’t Ray Barnes. Why how — where — Ray, 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 149 

Ray, don't you know us. Man you've stumbled 
into the Sphinx ambulance. It’s Hopper, and 
Hobby." There was a pause. Utter silence from 
Ray. “Shucks, Hopper, he’s gone again." “Come 
on, get him inside, and where’s the other chap. 
He’s all in too," cried Hobby. “Crackey, what a 
mess. And I’ll be hanged if here isn’t a dog too, 
licking Ray’s face. Must belong to Ray. Put 
him in too and we’ll get ’em back to the base. We 
don’t need to go to the dressing station for a load 
this trip. Come on, lend a hand." 

Then Hopper Gordon and Hobby Austin, the 
lucky fellows who were drawn to man the Sphinx 
ambulance, lifted their old side partner, Ray 
Barnes, into the ambulance and followed him 
with the now unconscious Chet, and the still and 
very conscious Spike. 

And a few moments later, at breakneck speed, 
despite shell craters and abominable roads, the 
ambulance was tearing back to town through the 
darkness, for neither Hopper nor Hobby could 
guess how seriously wounded Ray was, and they 
were determined to get their friend medical at- 
tention as soon as possible. 


150 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


CHAPTER XI. 

CAISSON CORPORA!, BARNES OF THE FIRST SECTION, 

Ray, possibly the strongest, and therefore the 
least exhausted of the quartet of artillerymen, 
brought to the hospital by Hobby and Hopper, in 
the Sphinx Ambulance, was the first to recover 
consciousness. It was well along in the following 
morning when he was revived, at the big hospital 

at St. C , ten miles behind the sector that had 

been so disastrously attacked by the Boches the 
night before. But he had hardly more than 
opened his eyes when he closed them again in a 
deep, satisfying slumber, which extended over the 
rest of the day and the following night. 

Chet and Buck Cassidy and Lieutenant Ram- 
sey who was in the officers' ward, were afifected in 
like manner by the tremendous strain of that af- 
ternoon and night in action, and it was not until 
well along in the second day that any of them 
were at all inclined to “sit up and take notice,” 
as Buck Cassidy put it. 

The first realization of where they were came 
when Ray propped himself up in bed on his elbow 
and looked about. He was in a long hospital 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


151 


ward, and for a time he could not comprehend 
how he had reached there. Then, as his eyes 
roved about, he happened to look at the cot next 
to him, and gazed squarely in the eyes of Chet 
W arren. 

“Hello, Chet, what are you looking so washed 
out about ? Man, you're as white as a ghost. Say, 
where are we?” 

“Hello, Barrage-Fire, I don't know where we 
are. I've been lying here trying to dope it out. I 
can’t remember much after wrestling Buck Cas- 
sidy around and handing him over to someone in 
the darkness. Can you?" 

“Nope, an' I don't remember whether I dreamt 
all that or whether it’s true. Where’s Buck?" 

“Over there, asleep — nope, he's awake. Say, 
Buck!" 

The figure on the third cot over turned his head 
slowly and a pair of bloodshot eyes looked at Chet. 
Then he grinned weakly. 

“Lo, Warren, what are you doin' here? 
Thought you got away on the field piece. Did 
they capture you too?" 

“Got away, — capture, say what's eating you, 
Buck, where do you think you are?" 

“Why, ain’t the Bodies got us ? The Lieuten- 
ant and I — shucks, no, we must be in an American 
hospital. There's an orderly in an American uni- 
form. Say, what is this ? Last I remember — let 


152 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


me see — say, did I dream this or is it true — seems 
to me that pup came along and found us and then 
by and by it seemed like two fellows — yes, by 
George, it was you and Ray, came into the shell 
hole and patched us up — and then — and then — 
aw, my brain's all fuzzy. What happened?" 

“That’s exactly what happened Buck," piped up 
Ray from his cot. “We saw you were missing 
from the field piece and Chet and I hopped off and 
came back to find you. Spike really found you, 
though, and then we lugged you out of the shell 
hole and took you over to — to — to an ambulance 
I guess, I can’t remember much after that." 

Buck looked incredulous. “You mean to tell 
me Chet Warren came back after me and lugged 
me to safety? On the level?" 

“Y’betcha he did," said Ray, beginning to feel 
more like himself. 

“By Crackey, Chet, I never thought you had it 
in you. You — you actually came back after me, 
after all the names I’ve called you — and the fight 
— and all the kidding I’ve done? Shucks, I can’t 
believe it. Chet, I beg your pardon, honestly I do. 
I’m sorry I dubbed you the 'spoiled boy’ because 
after all, I think you have more backbone than I 
would have had." 

Chet was blushing in spite of his pallor. 

“It wasn’t anything, Buck — honestly — and — 
an’ — if it hadn’t been for Ray here, I never would 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


153 


have had sand enough to do it. I was scared stiff 
most of the time. But Ray just sort of made me 
go. I don’t believe he’s afraid of anything, Buck. 
You know what he said when he saw we would 
have to run a barrage fire. He said, ‘Aw, come 
on, it’s just a barrage fire, that’s all/ Think of 
that ! Why, I was scared green an’ ” 

“Aw, dry up,” called Ray from his cot, “I was 
scared stiff, too. I didn’t think we’d ever get 
through.” 

“01’ Barrage-Fire-Barnes,” croaked Buck, “he 
sure has the sand, Chet.” 

“Barrage-Fire Barnes. That’s a bully name,” 
said Chet, “Let’s call him ” 

The conversation was interrupted by the ap- 
pearance of a very pretty nurse in Red Cross cos- 
tume. 

“Here, here, what are you men talking so for? 
Want to bring on a fever? Well, I declare, I 
never saw such healthy looking invalids in my 
life,” she said as she surveyed them. Then she 
added, “I have your names all mixed. Let me see 
your identification discs again.” 

“No need, miss. I’ll introduce you,” said Chet, 
with a grin on the one side of his face that 
showed, the other side being plastered with band- 
ages. “I’ll introduce you. On my left is Barrage- 
Fire Barnes, otherwise known as Private Ray- 
mond Barnes, 506 th Field Artillery, on my right 


154 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

is Buck Cassidy, also known as Private James 
Cassidy, same outfit. And your humble servant 
here is Private Chester Warren, formerly known 
as, ‘the spoiled boy/ also of the same outfit. ,, 

The nurse grinned her appreciation of Chet’s 
humor. Then she became serious. 

“Well, if you boys will be quiet and stop your 
chinning for the rest of the day, you can get up 
tomorrow and go out on the balcony in wheeling 
chairs.” 

“What ? Wheeling chairs. You must think we 
are invalids,” said Buck. “How long do you 
think we are going to stay here ?” 

“Oh ! about ten days,” said the nurse. 

“Aw, go ’way, I could get up now if — if ” 

Buck tried to sit up, but thought better of it and 
lay back on his pillow with a sickly grin. “I 
guess I do feel a bit rocky,” he admitted. 

“Well, look here, we’ll drive a bargain. We’ll 
be very quiet all day if you will just tell us a few 
things,” said Ray, who was gradually recollecting 
some of the night’s adventures. “Where is Lieu- 
tenant Ramsey and how is he, and where is Spike 
— that’s our dog — an’ — an’ guess that’s all except 
I’d like to know who brought us here.” 

“Why, the Lieutenant is in the Officers’ ward, 
and he’s almost as spry as you boys are. He had 
a frightful scalp wound, though, which needed ten 
stitches. And the dog, he’s in the Blue Cross hos- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 155 

pital at the other end of the city. He was wounded, 
too. Had a big gash in his side. As for who 
brought you here, I think one of our dressing- 
station ambulances picked you up somewhere 
along the road. I think Austin and Gordon were 
the drivers.” 

“Not Hobby and Hopper? Honest? Really !” 
exclaimed Ray. 

“Yes, that’s what they call each other,” ac- 
knowledged the nurse. 

“Well, what do you know about that! Say, 
send ’em in when they come back next time, will 
you?” 

“Oh, they’ve both been in already. They came 
yesterday to have a peep at you, but you were all 
sleeping. And now if you’ll take my advice you’ll 
go to sleep again. You will all have temperatures 
if you are not careful and then you’ll be mighty 
sick.” 

The bovs did not really know how badly off they 
were until they snuggled down among the sheets 
and pillows again. Indeed, they were so weak 
and still so exhausted that they soon dropped off 
again and slept and slept and slept. 

For the first few days of their stay at the hos- 
pital they were contented to rest, but after the 
fifth day, wheia they were permitted invalid’s 
chairs, and were wheeled out on the balcony to 
enjoy the frosty air, they began to get impatient 


156 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


for action once more. But each of them had been 
wounded, Ray being trussed up with bandages 
about his left arm, Chet with gauze and plaster 
over a torn cheek and grazed thigh, and Buck 
with a flesh wound of the shoulder. All of these 
required time to heal, and although the boys were 
fully recovered from their physical shock and the 
exertion of their exploits, they had to rest and 
give these wounds a chance to close up. 

Hopper and Hobby came almost daily to see 
Ray, and they always brought good things to eat 
or read, and at the end of the first week Hopper 
brought Spike, still swathed in bandages, from 
the Blue Cross Hospital, where he too had been 
convalescing. 

It happened that that day was the first that 
Lieutenant Ramsey was 'permitted to be up hob- 
bling around with the aid of a cane, and of course 
the first thing he did was to visit the three fellows 
from the First Section, in the other ward of the 
hospital. 

He looked white and worn and the bandages 
about his head seemed to accentuate his pallor as 
he came slowly through the ward and out on the 
balcony. Spike was resting contentedly on Ray’s 
lap when the officer came in, but he jumped down 
and rushed toward him, wagging all over, despite 
the bandages, in his eagerness to greet the man 
whom he had saved from the shell hole. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 157 

“W ell, by George, if there isn’t that pup again,” 
laughed the Lieutenant, as he reached down to 
pat Spike on the head,” but believe me, fellows, 
Fm glad you brought him along even after all I 
said. I guess that dog saved our lives for I’m cer- 
tain you two fellows would never have found us 
if he hadn’t guided you.” The Lieutenant had 
heard the whole story of their rescue several times 
over from nurses and doctors in the hospital, and 
he appreciated Spike’s part in the work. 

“I think you are right, sir,” said Ray. “If it 
hadn’t been that we cared so much for Spike we 
wouldn’t have missed you and Buck until it was 
too late, and if he hadn’t found you first and 
showed us the way to the shell-hole we would 
never have located you in the wide world and the 
chances are you would have died of exposure or 
would have had pneumonia after lying out in that 
mud and slush hole all night, wounded as you 
were.” 

“Quite right, Barnes, and hereafter Spike stays 
with us or I’ll know the reason why.” And Spike, 
seeming to understand it all, looked up at the of- 
ficer gratefully and wagged his spike of a tail 
some more. 

“What about the battery, sir? Have you 
heard anything?” queried Chet. 

“Captain Blanchard was in to see me this morn- 
ing,” said the Lieutenant, sitting down and mak- 


158 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

in g himself comfortable. He tells me the battery 
is in a bad way, in fact, so much shot to pieces 
that it has been withdrawn from active service 
temporarily and is now being reorganized and re- 
equipped. In fact the whole artillery division got 
rats that night. Lost a terrible lot of men. But 
Battery J got the worst of it. One gun was put 
completely out of commission, and another cais- 
son was lost besides the one we left behind from 
the First Section. Why all the First Section has 
to show for its fourteen men and non-coms are 
Wrenn and Davis, who came through unwounded 
and you three fellows here. Scotty and Falkner 
are of no further use. They are in the hospital 
now, Scotty with a bullet through his lung, and 
another that carried away several bones in his 
shoulder. The physicians are fighting a game 
fight to keep him alive. I guess they'll succeed, 
but he'll never be a Gun Corporal again. Falkner 
lost a bone in his thigh and they nearly had to take 
off his leg. He’s a cripple for life. And the rest 
are on the list of killed and missing. Sergeant 
Brush can’t be found. Corporal Norman is dead. 
Martin, Tobin and McCarthy of the drivers are 
gone, and Hayes, the extra cannoneer, can’t be 
accounted for. You remember he went back for 
the horses. He was probably blown to bits by a 
shell.” 


OP THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


159 


“Jimminy, but we sure got it rough,” said Cas- 
sidy. 

“But we saved the gun, didn’t we, Lieutenant ?” 
asked Ray. 

“Yes, we saved the gun. That’s decidedly to 
our credit. If we had lost that I would have been 
hoppin’ mad. We don’t want such disgrace in J 
Battery, do we, fellows?” 

“You bet we don’t,” said Chet. 

“Well, boys, the Battery is being reorganized, 
but I guess we’ll all be out of here in time to fit in 
somewhere. Captain Blanchard intimated that 
he was going to put you fellows all back in the 
First Section with Cassidy Gunner, and Warren 
here, No. i man, and you, Barnes, as caisson Cor- 
poral. That will make you second in command. 
It surely will be bully if he does it.” 

“Great, congratulations, Ray,” said Buck Cas- 
sidy. 

“Congratulations yourself, Gun Corporal,” 
grinned Ray. 

“Corporal Barnes,” mused Chet; “shucks, that 
don’t sound as good as Barrage-Fire Barnes.” 
Then, turning to the Lieutenant, he said, “You’ve 
heard our new name for Barnes, haven’t you, 
Lieutenant ?” 

“No, what is it, Warren?” asked the officer. 

“Aw, dry up, Chet,” shouted Ray. 


160 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


“Dry up yourself and don’t interrupt. I’m tell- 
ing this to the Lieutenant,” retorted Chet. 

“Well, what is it. What do you call Barnes?” 
asked the Lieutenant. 

“Why, he’s Barrage-Fire Barnes now. You see 
he has such small regard for a barrage fire that 
he just plunges right through. He says it’s only 
a barrage fire, you know, just as if it were a brand 
of breakfast food, or something like that.” 

The Lieutenant smiled. “Well, he may change 
his tune after he gets enough of it. I rather guess 
we are in for some mighty tough work as soon as 
we get back on the firing line again, which I have 
an idea will be very shortly. You see we are 
veterans now, and they will be sticking us into 
some rather tight places.” 

“Huh, we should worry a lot and build a house 
on it. The tighter the better,” said Buck Cassidy, 
soon to be the senior corporal of the First Section, 
Battery J. 

But the places they got into later on proved too 
tight for even the daring Buck Cassidy, as subse- 
quent developments will prove. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


161 


CHAPTER XII. 

BACK TO THE BATTLE. 

Instead of ten days, as was first predicted, the 
boys of the first section, with Lieutenant Ramsey, 
were in the hospital three weeks before they were 
discharged. And the day their discharge came, 
there arrived also brief messages from Captain 
Blanchard. 

“Immediately upon discharge from the hospital 

report at the St. A Artillery School, where 

Battery J, 506 Field Artillery Battalion, is re- 
forming” read the messages. And with the mes- 
sage came word of the promotion of Ray and 
Buck to Corporals. 

The St. A Artillery School was but twenty 

miles distant from St. C— — , where the hospital 
was located, and despite the slow French train 
service, the boys arrived there on the afternoon 
of the day they left the hospital, which was really 
quite a wonderful performance, under the circum- 
stances. 

Although in the best of spirits when they quit 
the train and hurried toward the big French Artil- 
lery School, now turned over to the Americans 


162 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


while the Batteries were reorganizing, they be- 
came quite serious and a bit lonesome, when they 
arrived at the barracks, to find only Tommy 
Wrenn and Dick Davis there to greet them. The} 
missed big, good-natured Scotty, and Falkner and 
the rest of the fellows. 

Of course, Ray and Tommy greeted each other 
like long lost brothers, and Tommy hugged Spike 
and pulled his ears and made such a fuss over the 
dog that the poor little fellow did not know what 
to make of it. 

“Crackey, but we’ve been lonesome without you, 
Dick and I,” said Tommy; “the old section is all 
gone to the winds. We have a lot of new drivers* 
and a couple of fellows from another battery as 
extra cannoneers, but it don’t seem the same let 
me tell you. Hear you got a warrant as Caisson 
Corporal, Ray. You lucky duffer. And Buck 
here is the boss, eh? Great stuff. I have your 
old job, Buck, at No. 2, but shucks, man, this 
hanging around is killing. We’ve been in these 
barracks for three weeks now. Things are all in 
shipshape now, however, and like as not we’ll be 
moving again in a day or two. We’ve all new 
equipment, except for two of the old horses and 
the little old gun. Say, she looks a sight. All 
dented up. Come on out to the park and see.” 

Eagerly the fellows all went across to where 
f he guns were parked to find the gun that they 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 163 

had saved for the first section, rather well battle 
scarred, but looking as sleek and pugnacious as 
ever. 

Spending the night in the barracks was like old 
times for everyone, and soon a spirit of cama- 
raderie sprang up among the old men and the new 
fellows, and the first section was a regular family 
once more and Ray and Buck were mighty heroes 
when the tales of their first night in action were 
told by Tommy Wrenn. 

As Caisson Corporal, Ray did not change one 
bit from the old Ray of No. 5, and Buck Cassidy 
as Gun Corporal was the same old pessimistic 
Buck. They and Tommy and Chet and Davis of 
the old bunch mingled in with the men Daws, 
Harmon and Preston, the new cannoneers, and 
Hartley, Bradley, Richards, Bevins, Spicer and 
Shaw the drivers, and found them all to be a bully 
lot. Ray’s new name became popular too, and be- 
fore the night was finished every man in the bat- 
tery had heard how he had won the sobriquet of 
Barrage-Fire-Barnes, for Chet never could keep 
a good story long enough to have it spoil. 

Next day came new issues of clothing, shoes, 
and similar articles to the fellows who had just 
come in, and that night came word that at day- 
break next morning the battery would move to 
the front once more. 

That was the best news of all, of course, and a 


164 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


great many fellows lay awake a long time, won- 
dering if the experiences they were about to face 
were going to be as thrilling as those of the occa- 
sion of their baptism by fire, now nearly a month 
past 

Like veterans, the Battery swung out of the 
stone-paved enclosure next morning and through 

the town of St. A , headed toward the battle 

front, a good day’s march away. Spike, as usual, 
trailed behind the first section, but this time he 
took up his post under the piece instead of the 
caisson, for Tommy and Chet were riding there. 
Buck and Ray were mounted on horses all their 
own and cantered along beside field-piece and 
caisson in the line of march. Ray felt a little 
unhappy at leaving the company of Tommy and 
Chet, of whom he had become very fond, but he 
consoled himself with the fact that although he 
was a corporal, he was but a little higher than a 
private and there was no reason why he should 
not remain on the same footing with his old 
chums as he always did. He reflected that Scotty 
had been “one of the fellows” all the time and yet 
he was Gun Corporal and in charge of the gun. 
Buck’s line of reasoning was doubtless the same 
for he too was still a regular chap though he did 
ride alone. 

All morning long the battery rumbled on over 
roads frozen to flinty hardness, by weeks of ex- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


165 


tremely cold weather. At noon, rest was called 
and horses were fed while men lunched along the 
roadside. 

They were coming back into the war zone now, 
for above the clank and rattle of the limbers and 
caissons, and heavy field-guns, they could hear the 
steady, pulsating beat of the big guns at the front. 
Every town they moved through showed conspic- 
uous evidences of air-raids too, with shattered 
buildings and piles of mortar and stone, mute tes- 
timonies to the ruthlessness of the Huns. 

Soldiers and motor transports began to be en- 
countered, too, and at one point batteries of 
French artillery were moving through a town at 
right angles to the direction the Americans were 
going. It was not long then before more impres- 
sive signs of the great war were presented. At 
one point where a famous forest had once stood 
there were now only gaunt rampikes of trees, 
shorn of limbs, reaching skyward. Old trenches 
were in evidence in the field beside the road, too 
overgrown now by crops of last summer's grass, 
but preserving their contour. There were old and 
weather-beaten artillery limbers strung along the 
roadside, from which all iron had been salvaged 
and there were wrecks of motor trucks, stripped 
also of their metal parts. 

By five in the afternoon, as a cold bronze sun 
was setting in the hazy western sky, the artillery 


166 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


division moved into a rather small town, which 
was crowded with troops of all kinds and nation- 
alities. For five miles outside the town, where 
the artillery column had turned into the main 
road, evidences of an approach to a military cen- 
ter were at hand, in an almost endless string of 
motor trucks passing up and down and an occa- 
sional detachment of troops moving north or 
south, as well as a number of ambulances that 
hurried by, flying past the artillery column and 
making the horse artillery seem slow in compari- 
son. 

It was not much of a town that they came into, 
however, for there were very few buildings that 
stood unscathed by German shells. Scattered 
ruins were on every hand, some reconstructed 
just enough to shelter a few soldiers, but for the 
most part left the way the Huns had left them 
months before. 

Here orders were issued to bivouac for the 
night, which command the men were glad to obey 
as they had been traveling since daylight and were 
very tired. Field-pieces and caissons were parked 
in an open field to the left of the village and the 
horses picketed nearby. The men, however, gath- 
ered in every shelter available and ate the provi- 
sions left from their noonday lunch. 

As darkness came on, the battle-line to the 
north of them could be marked with little diffi- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


167 


culty. Three miles away was a line of batteries, 
periodically firing salvos, over a hill, behind 
which the trenches were doubtless located. And 
a mile away, to the east of the town but almost in 
a direct line with it, a battery of “heavies” 
mounted on railroad gun carriages, were hammer- 
ing away intermittently. Ray and Tommy and 
Chet wondered what they were hammering at, 
but they were too tired to make investigations. 
Instead, the three of them rolled up in their blank- 
ets and with Spike snuggling in among them, they 
slept a peaceful sleep on the porch of a shattered 
farm house near where the American Artillery 
had come to rest, for it had been decided that they 
would not move into their new positions until day- 
light the following morning. 

Just what was in the wind the fellows could not 
determine, but all during the night their sleep was 
interrupted by the coming and going of troops. 
Thousands and thousands and thousands of men 
were passing through that shell-ruined village on 
toward the battle front. Ray guessed that the 
troops were being massed for some especial pur- 
pose. Twice he raised himself on his elbow, and 
watched through the blackness, a solid mass of 
men moving forward on the road that ran in front 
of the farm house. That they were Americans he 
soon determined, for, although he could not see 
their uniforms in the darkness, and although they 


168 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


all wore trench helmets instead of the campaign 
hats or doggie caps, he heard such thoroughly 
American expressions as ''aw, come on, shake a 
1 eg,” “I should worry” and “on the level” occa- 
sionally, and it was not hard to identify them af- 
ter that. He wondered what troops they were, 
but he little guessed that during the hours of 
darkness such famous commands as the “Fightin' 
Fifth” with his old friend Danny Kelly, now a 
corporal too, after a stay in the hospital, was on 
the way back to the front line trenches. 

Clear through the town swung the serpentine 
line of moving men, the great black mass never 
ending but moving on and on and on as more and 
more soldiers came up. They were all destined 
for the first line trenches, and Ray was glad to 
know that this time they would be backing up 
their own boys in khaki, the fighting nephews of 
Uncle Sam. 

“Can't figure it out,” he said to Tommy, who 
had waked up too and inquired about the mass of 
moving troops, “but they must be planning a big 
push of some kind. They are sure bringing up a 
pack of men under the cover of darkness. Guess 
they are figuring on giving the Huns a real sur- 
prise.” 

It was a clear, cold morning; a delightful morn- 
ing that the fellows of the first section of Battery 
J were greeted with when they awoke to the ring- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY ICO 

ing calls of the bugle. While they were unrolling 
from their blankets Ray shot a hasty glance to- 
ward the main road down which the troops had 
been moving a few hours since, but the winding 
line of tramping men had vanished; gone on into 
the trenches, and now only an occasional motor 
transport was to be seen. The boys in khaki, 
many thousand strong, had all come up in the 
darkness and the Boches were none the wiser. 

During the night hours, the Battery’s field kit- 
chen, and the “stoves on wheels,” as Tommy 
called them, for the rest of the artillery division, 
had come up, too, and there they stood, in among 
the ruins, discernible only by their thin columns of 
blue smoke, and the delightful odors that were 
wafted from them on every breeze, to stir the ap- 
petites of the thousands of hungry artillerymen. 

Hot breakfast was served that morning, and a 
“whoppuT big breakfast” it was, to quote Cor- 
poral Buck Cassidy. The fellows fell to with 
mess tins and knives and forks and aluminum 
cups, and presently they were spread over the 
landscape, sitting on brick piles, heaps of shell 
shattered timber, and even on dilapidated, three 
legged chairs that they found among the ruins all 
devouring piping hot baked beans, big crisp slices 
of salt pork, bread, marmalade and coffee. 

The call to harness and limber came all too 
soon for the hungry fellows, and mess tins were 


170 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


hastily cleaned and folded up, as team after team 
of spanking fine horses, also well fed that morn- 
ing, were brought up. The parked guns, caissons 
and limbers were broken out one by one and made 
ready, the rattle of harness chains, the clank of 
iron whiffeltrees, the rattle of the batteries, the 
snort and stamping of horses and the shouts of 
men, filled the air for a while and then, in a re- 
markably brief period, the entire division was 
ready to move once more. 

Darkness was not exactly necessary in bringing 
up the artillery, for the guns were so far behind 
the trench line, and usually so well hidden that 
the Huns rarely knew of their movements, except 
when scouting airplanes came nosing about in the 
sky, and you may be sure that French and Amer- 
ican aviators were keeping the sky lanes clear that 
morning. 

Soon the long cavalcade was off, and with Bat- 
tery J to the front, the gun of the first section the 
first piece in line, the column swung out of the 
barren and muddy fields into the high road. To 
the north, as the artillery advanced, guns on the 
heights ahead were hammering out their well 
regulated music, the firing being slow, measured 
and regular, like the beat of a pendulum, while oc- 
casionally, from the right of the road, and quite 
a distance away, came the deep-mouthed baying 
of the heavies, as one of them rumbled forth an 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


171 


explosion in lazy fashion and settled back to si- 
lence again. 

Forward moved the artillery. Several miles 
ahead on the hillside was the position they were 
making for, and this was at a point at least two 
miles behind the front line trenches, No Man’s 
Land and the Huns. 

Inside of an hour the division had reached the 
hill. Then, at a gallop, the batteries, one by one, 
made the slope and spread out, and the first sec- 
tion of J Battery being the first gun to locate, 
presently found its way to the very crest of the 
hill, where a gun emplacement was ready and 
waiting. Evidently this artillery position had 
been prepared ahead of time, for earthworks had 
been dug and reinforced in which the guns with 
caissons and limbers could be placed. 

The emplacement for the first section gun, was 
just to the right of a thick clump of cat-briars and 
bushes, that had somehow escaped the devasta- 
tion of German shell fire, and since it was located 
almost at the highest point on the hill, yet far 
enough down on the slope to be out of sight of the 
trenches, it was a capital position. And in the 
heart of the clump of bushes, behind a rock, an 
artillery observation post had been located. 

Other guns were concealed close by, however, 
and by the time the entire division was located, 


172 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

the hill was literally covered with hidden field- 
pieces. 

Hardly had the fellows of the first section 
worked their gun into position, rolled the caisson 
to its proper place, sent horses and limbers to con- 
cealments provided for them in the rear, when 
along came the camouflage men ; the fakers of the 
army, who knew of every conceivable way to con- 
ceal guns, men, and even railroad trains, by fak- 
ing up stage scenery, painting new colors to blend 
with the landscape round about and doing other 
tricks of their trade. 

Hastily a make-believe thicket was thrown up 
about the first section gun that resembled the 
thicket nearby. Then the olive drab gun was 
given a new coat of paint, all brown and gray, 
with occasional blotches of white, to represent lin- 
gering clots of snow (for some signs of a recent 
snow storm did remain in the heart of the nearby 
thicket where the sun had not been able to get at 
it). And when this corps of fakers had finished 
with the gun, a man could approach from any 
angle, save the rear, and never know that a gun 
was within a mile of him, if it were not dis- 
charged. Truly these fakers had done their trick 
well, for even a scouting airplane, sailing above, 
could not locate the gun, by sight alone. 

“Well,” said a sergeant in charge of a squad 
of the army of fakers, “we have you all doped up 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


173 


so that even your mother couldn’t find you unless 
she stumbled over you. Now go to it and lambast 
the Boches to beat the cars.” 

But all morning long the guns remained silent 
and meanwhile, observers came up and took pos- 
session of the post behind the rock in the thicket, 
near Ray’s gun. Then telephone lines were esta- 
blished with instruments in every gun emplace- 
ment, and everything was made ready for an ap- 
parently long stay in that position. 

“They must be figuring that we are going to 
stick here a while,” said Tommy, who with Chet 
and the rest of the fellows had been putting things 
in order in this hole in the ground, that had al- 
ready begun to feel like home. 

“Well, I guess we are here to stay for a little 
while at least. Say, I wonder what it looks like 
over the top there. Let’s crawl up and see if we 
can get a peep,” suggested Ray. 

Tommy was “game” as he expressed it, so they 
both crawled out of the gun pit, and wriggling on 
their stomachs like two Indian scouts, crept 
through the bushes toward the big rock that 
marked the observation post. Spike, who had al- 
ready made himself at home in the emplacement, 
wanted to follow them, but Ray chased him back. 

Crouching behind the rock, they found a very 
testy sergeant from the signal division with tele- 


174 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

phone head piece strapped on and instrument in 
his hand. He greeted them with : 

“Well, what do you want?” 

“Nothing,” said Ray with a smile. 

“Well, take it and beat it back as fast as you 
can. Our Lieutenant will be here in a few min- 
utes and he’ll put the run on you.” 

“Can’t we stay to take a look,” asked Ray. 

“Oh, I suppose so if you want to take a chance,” 
said the Sergeant. 

From behind the rock the fellows swept the 
landscape below, and got their first daylight view 
of the battle front. From the height they could 
see miles and miles of muddy brown, pock-marked 
and shell scarred terrain, that looked like devasta- 
tion itself. The only thing that broke the monot- 
ony in the foreground at least, were traverse fur- 
rows that looked like the gouges of some giant 
fingernail, and in front of these, masses of inter- 
twined barbed wire, impassable barriers, before 
both American and German trenches. 

In the background, however, several miles dis- 
tant, rose an occasional chimney and spire, from 
a mass of red and white splotches, that indicated 
a city of some size. 

“What place is that,” asked Ray of the testy 
Sergeant. 

“Who wants to know?” he demanded. 

T would like to know,” said Ray. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


175 


The Sergeant looked at him and frowned for a 
moment. Then apparently feeling that he had no 
real reason to be grouchy with the fellows, he 
smiled. 

“Say,” he said, “don’t mind me. I’ve been up 
for thirty-six hours and I’m tired out, and until 
that Lieutenant of our comes, I won’t get a chance 
to sleep. I feel sort of grouchy that’s all.” 

“Oh, don’t mention it,” said Ray with a grin. 
“I know what lack of sleep is.” 

“Why, that place over there is the city of 

T . It’s a big railroad center, and one of the 

best little bases the Germans have. That’s why 
we are making all these preparations. Some day, 
I don’t know when, but I’ll bet it won’t be very 
long, there’s going to be some fuss about here, for 
we are going to make a drive on that place, and 
believe me, from the number of troops I saw com- 
ing up last night and the bunch of artillery we 
have here now, not to mention the heavies that 
are coming up this afternoon, it’s going to be some 
fracas.” 

Ray and Tommy just couldn’t help thrilling 
when they heard all this, for they realized that if 
everything went well they were destined to take 
part in a terrific battle. And they little suspected 
how near that big battle was. 

Back to the gun they crawled, to have a good 
look around there. Through the yawning apper- 


176 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


ture of the pit out of which the nose of the seven- 
ty-five poked, they could see a limited section of 
the trenches, and a portion of the city of T . 

While they were standing there looking out, 
Lieutenant Ramsey came into the gun pit and 
gave it a close inspection. 

“All set, fellows/' he asked. “Fine, I — what's 
that? Captain Blanchard wants me on the tele- 
phone?" He strode over and took up an extra 
telephone instrument connected with the same cir- 
cuit, listened intently a moment, then commanded 
the men to stand to. 

Presently firing data began to be droned by the 
men at the telephone. In a twinkling shells were 
out of the caisson. 

“Target, section two-four-Deflection one-five 
corrector two-eight. Range two-five-zero-zero." 

Buck Cassidy, for the first time commander of 
the gun, was working swiftly but eagerly, and 
every other man was performing his duty with 
snap and enthusiasm too. “Ready," sang out 
Buck. The Lieutenant waited a moment, watch 
in hand, listening intently. Then, “Fire" came 
the order. 

“Boom," roared the first section gun. Eagerly 
the fellows looked through the mouth of the gun 
pit, and presently they saw a smoke pufif breaking 
over the Boche trenches. And then for the first 


OF THE FIELD AKTILLEKY 177 

time they beheld, hovering over the German line, 
a big double command aeroplane. 

“Ranging by aeroplane, by jingoes/’ exclaimed 
Ray. “Those fellows are out there to watch our 
shots, and signal back to the observers where we 
hit. They are the shell spotters. They have a 
wireless outfit on the aeroplane and they tele- 
graph back range and firing data until a hit is reg- 
istered. I — say, just look at that plane. Aren’t 
the Huns giving it fits though. Look at the 
shrapnel bursting around it. Thunder, he can’t 
stay long out there, let me tell you. He’s ” 

Ray was interrupted by more firing data. The 
aeroplane had telegraphed back corrected range, 
and it was being distributed by telephone to the 
batteries. 

“Boom,” roared the first gun again. 

Once more a pufif ball broke, nearer the ground 
this time, just as the aeroplane, in spite of the 
rain of sharpnel about it, darted swiftly over the 
target. 

“Hit. Cease firing,” came over the telephone, 
for the proper range had been established. 

Ray’s eyes were on the aeroplane. So were 
the eyes of every other chap at the gun. They 
saw it dart back, turn, and prepare for a return 
flight to the American lines, and meanwhile the 
German shells were bursting about it like hail 
stones, and the rumble of German anti-aircraft 


178 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


guns and the ripping and tearing of the machine 
guns and rifle fire could be distinctly heard by 
the men at the gun. 

“He is sure having a hot time of it,” exclaimed 
Buck. 

“Hot — why he’s — Mercy. Look. Look. He’s 
hit. Lieutenant, he’s hit. He’s coming down. 
Falling. No. No. He’s skimming down. He’s 
trying to make the American line. The plane is 
crippled. It’s in mighty bad shape, sir. Crackey, 
they hit him again. Down he comes. He’s 
headed right smack for No Man’s Land.” 

Every fellow caught his breath, and a groan 
went up when they saw the fine, big, soaring, 
birdlike machine begin to crumple. German 
shrapnel had torn huge gashes in the fabric 
wings, and one of the steel balls had crippled the 
engine. Down plunged the birdman. The fel- 
lows in the gunpit could see the two tiny black 
figures in the fusilage, struggling hard to keep 
the machine under control and meanwhile the 
Huns rained shrapnel and machine gun bullets 
at it with every gun they could bring into action. 

It gave the fellows in the gunpit a sickening 
sensation to realize that two men were perishing 
before their very eyes and that they were power- 
less to save them. 

Down came the machine ; it was not really fall- 
ing for the remaining wing surface was breaking 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 179 

its plunge. It was actually volplaning, but it was 
quite apparent that at the angle of flight necessi- 
tated by the crippled condition of the wings, it 
could not land behind the American lines. In- 
deed, it was doomed to drop between the trenches 
in the very center of No Man's Land, and the 
aviator and his observer, if not killed by the fall, 
would be riddled with bullets before they could 
reach the shelter of the trenches. 

“Oh, it's awful. It’s terrible. If we could only 
help. If ” 

“Stand to!" came the sharp command of the 
Lieutenant. “Barrage fire !” he snapped. “Range 
two-five-zero-zero” droned the call, marking the 
range of the trench line just established by the 
unfortunate aviator. 

“Commence Firing!” snapped the Lieutenant. 

“Ready, Fire!” shouted Gunner Cassidy. 
Every man had performed his function like clock 
work and at Cassidy's call, the 75’s roared, and so 
did every other 75 on the hill. And with the 
first shot Ray sensed the meaning of it all. 

The aeroplane had come down. It had not 
fallen an unrecognizable mass of debris. It had 
come down right side up and landed without a 
jar, and as the first shots from the artillery rang 
out, the aviator and the observer were scrambling 
from the fusilage, prepared to make a dash across 


180 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


No Man’s Land in broad daylight, hoping to 
reach the American trenches before they were 
killed by German bullets. And to help them in 
their flight, the American artillery had turned 
loose a barrage fire on the Boche trenches that 
was heavy enough to drive the men underground, 
and put any snipers to flight. 

What a rain of deadly steel burst upon the 
German trenches with the first volley! It was 
withering! It churned up the mud-brown earth 
and tore gaping holes in the trenches. And with 
each following charge (for the men were load- 
ing and firing frantically now) the blast of shell 
was horrifying. 

Again and again and again the field pieces 
roared, and as they raised their deadly chorus, 
the two men out there in No Man’s Land bent 
low and with heads down, as if leaning against 
a tornado’s blast, ran for the American trenches. 
On and on they rushed, stumbling now and going 
down, to roll over, stagger to their feet, and go 
on again. It was a race for life and they were 
putting every ounce of energy and vitality into 
each bounding stride. On they rushed. Would 
they make it? They were fifty yards from the 
trenches! Now forty! Thirty! Twenty-five! 
One of them went down and rolled over and over. 
He tried to struggle to his feet, then went down 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


181 


again. His companion stopped, turned toward 
him for a moment, stooped down, flung him over 
his shoulder as he would a sack of flour, then 
stumbled on again staggering under the weight 
of the man he was trying to rescue. A cheer 
went up at this bravery both from the Americans 
in the trenches and from the artillerymen on the 
hill, and the rain of shells grew more intense as 
the men worked harder and harded to throw a 
devastating barrage on to the Germans. The men 
in the trenches were pouring out a terrible rifle 
and machine-gun fire too, and it was a brave 
Hun indeed who dared to come out of his under- 
ground dugout. 

Forward staggered the aviator with the 
wounded man over his shoulder. He stumbled 
up to the barbed wire entanglements. An Amer- 
ican, standing in full view above the parapet of 
the trench motioned him toward the nearest lane 
through the entanglements. The aviator, stum- 
bled to his left, found the lane, and then began to 
stagger through the network of wire. With each 
step he seemed to grow weaker. Would he make 
the trench? Could he make it? No! He was 
down ! He 

A resounding cheer echoed and reechoed along 
the trench line, for as he fell a half dozen eager 
Americans went over the top, seized him and his 


182 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


wounded comrade and carried them into the 
trenches regardless of the fact that German artil- 
lery, in retaliation for the barrage fire, had 
opened up on to the American trenches. 

And that was the start of the big push. 


OF THE FIELD AETILLEBY 


183 


CHAPTER XIII. 

this big push. 

It was a terrible bombardment that the Ger- 
mans had brought upon themselves, for every bat- 
tery on the ridge (and there were scores of them 
concealed back there), began a persistent ham- 
mer, hammer, hammer of the German position. 
All that afternoon Ray and Buck, and Tommy 
and Chet and the rest worked and worked and 
worked, and the old gun got so hot sometimes, 
and the men so exhausted, that more than once 
Lieutenant Ramsey called “Cease Firing’’ just 
to give the men a rest and to cool off the field- 
piece. But the silence of one gun made no differ- 
ence in the volume of the deadly serenade. De- 
spite the fact that the weather was cold, the fel- 
lows perspired at their work, and heavy over- 
coats, and in some cases tunics, were discarded 
while they toiled and sweated at handling shells 
and serving the 75’s. 

Whether it was planned to start the bombard- 
ment then or whether it had been started a little 
ahead of time, the fellows of the first section of 
Battery J did not know, but they did know that 


184 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


there was never a moment’s pause in it for lack 
of ammunition. As soon as darkness came on 
motor trucks began to make their appearance 
loaded high with shells for the batteries. These 
were distributed swiftly among the batteries, and 
supply depots were established where caissons 
were filled and returned to the batteries when a 
new supply was necessary. 

All during the night the constant hammering 
kept up. The range to the German trenches had 
been accurately established, and other observers 
had calculated the range of various other points 
including the German batteries some distance be- 
hind their trenches, machine-gun emplacements, 
or pill boxes, and other vital points. And it was 
at these points that the cannoneers directed their 
fire. 

The din by day had been deafening, but the 
roar that was set up after nightfall, seemed be- 
yond human possibilities; it was as something 
unearthly; as if the storm gods in the heavens 
were wreaking vengeance on the world. 

The night was alight with the flashing of guns 
too. Great smoke clouds rolled across the land- 
scape. Shells burst everywhere, along both sides 
of the valley. The Germans were replying with 
all the guns they possessed too and the American 
trenches suffered to some extent, as did the 
American artillery positions on the ridge. Up 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


185 


there the “heavies” were falling; giant high ex- 
plosive shells that came down with a thump, 
buried themselves, then burst with a roar throw- 
ing earth skyward and devastating the hillside 
for hundreds of feet. 

Several of these fell dangerously near the posi- 
tion of the first section gun and once Ray, hurry- 
ing across the gunpit, was hurled flat by the con- 
cussion of one. Spike, whenever he attempted 
to move his position, from one corner of the pit 
where he crouched, staggered about uncertainly. 
Indeed, he finally gave up trying to move at all 
and just stretched out on his stomach and 
watched things happen. 

At midnight, the bombardment of the Ameri- 
cans was intensified by the opening up of their 
own heavies that had now come up and been 
established. They were several miles to the rear 
of the ridge, but whenever they let loose a salvo 
it was as if the heavens were falling. Ray and 
Tommy and the rest heard the big shells go 
screeching overhead, and the song they sang 
made them shudder at first. 

All night they labored, working in shifts, and 
then it was that Ray got his first opportunity to 
be in charge of the gun in action, for as Caisson 
Corporal he was the relief gunner and took 
Buck's place on the little iron stool to the left of 
the hot recoiling muzzle of the 75. There he held 


186 


BARRAGE FIRE BARJNES 


to the nerve-wracking task of keeping the gun on 
the target, or changing the range when changes 
were made in the firing data shouted to him from 
the telephone, while his partner fired the field- 
piece each time the shell was shoved home and the 
breech block closed. 

It was great fun at first, and mighty pleasant 
to know that each time he moved his right hand 
he sped a messenger of destruction toward the 
hateful Boches. But the proximity to the hot, 
flashing, and recoiling barrel, the strain of watch- 
ing the instruments and of listening for the 
changes in the firing data proved to be a decided 
hardship after a while and he was glad enough to 
be relieved after two hours of steady work. In- 
deed he even tried to catch a few winks of sleep 
in spite of the Bedlam about him. 

The American batteries roared all night long, 
and the fellows worked in shifts the long night 
through, and when the red of dawn began to 
paint the eastern sky, the flame-spitting monsters 
were still at it. 

The amount of damage the shelling had done 
could scarcely be estimated, for appraisals had to 
be made through smoke clouds left by bursting 
shells in the valley. But certain it was that the 
German position was little better than a shambles. 
Yet for all the bombardment, the American offi- 
cers evidently felt that not half enough damage 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


187 


had yet been done, for the firing continued all 
that day. The heavies still threw their salvos 
of huge shells far across the sky in sweeping 

arcs toward the city of T which was slowly 

being reduced to nothingness; the field-batteries 
on the hill pounded and hammered the German 
trench lines into unrecognizable shapes or ham- 
mered away at artillery positions or machine gun 
emplacements that needed to be obliterated, until 
Ray and the rest became quite convinced that a 
further expenditure of shells was sheer waste. 
They could not conceive how there could be a 
living being or thing on the other side of the val- 
ley after all this destructiveness. But they little 
realized the network of dugouts, underground 
galleries and hiding places of the Huns that had 
yet to be beaten down and demolished before it 
would be safe for the infantrymen down there 
below them, to go over the top. 

Still they kept up the withering fire. About 
the middle of the day word was flashed back that 
a menacing machine gun emplacement had been 
spotted by one of the artillery observers, con- 
cealed, goodness only knows where, perhaps out 
on the very edges of No Man's Land itself, for 
these daring watchers crept everywhere and 
chose odd places to hide themselves in. 

Word came flashing back by field telephone 


188 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

“Machine gun, right center, section five eight, 
range two-four-seven-zero.” 

“Change target,” rang the call of the Lieuten- 
ant. Then from the telephone, “Target Right 
center Section 58, Deflection one five, Shell, 
Range two-four-seven-zero.” 

Hastily but accurately Ray, who was then at 
the gun, made the change while the men at the 
caisson altered the shell nose for percussion fire. 

“Ready,” sang out Ray. Then “Fire!” 

Again No. 1 gun took up the chorus, and the 
three other guns of the battery did likewise, and 
the next moment four shells struck right center 
of Section 58. 

“Flit!” flashed back the news from the obser- 
ver. And with the next discharge the gun swung 
back to its old task of pounding trenches for the 
machine gun and crew existed no longer. 

Late afternoon proved to be a period of seri- 
ous action for the men of the first section. With- 
out warning, shells that had been racing with a 
scream overhead, began to change their course. 
The German guns had foreshortened their range 
a little, and an instant later without warning, 
four shells dropped in the vicinity of the gunpit. 
The Bodies had spotted the gun and picked up 
the range. 

Crash ! came the shells. It was as if four light- 
ning bolts had collided within twenty feet of the 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


189 


gunpit. Ray, on relief, was just crossing behind 
the rear of the gun, when the blast came. He 
was thrown down like a log, and instinctively he 
hid his head, as he heard shell parts whistle past 
him. A moment later he looked up to behold a 
horrible sight. One of the splinters that had 
whirled past him had struck Cassidy full in the 
back between the shoulder blades. The gunner 
had been killed instantly and there he hung, his 
legs still astride the steel stool on which he sat, 
his body on the ground. Ray grew white and 
shaky, and Chet Warren, on the other side of 
the gun from the stricken Buck and within four 
feet of the dead man, involuntarily groaned and 
flung his arm over his eyes to shut out the sight. 

But Buck was not the only victim. In the rear 
of the gunpit, thrashing and writhing among 
bushes was Richards, one of the gun drivers who 
had come up to do a ’spell on the gun. It had all 
happened so quickly that the men could hardly 
believe their eyes. 

“Stretcher bearers! Hi, stretcher bearers! 
This way!” cried Lieutenant Ramsey, who was 
a bit white and shaky too. Then “Barnes, to the 
gun. You, Wrenn, take No. i. Warren turn 
out and get some rest.” 

At that moment word came over the telephone. 

“New German Battery in position ranging on 


190 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

Battery J Section eight, range three-eight-zero- 
zero.” 

“That’s the location of the Boches who fired 
those shells,” snapped the Lieutenant. “It’s a 
gun duel, we’ve got to put that battery out of 
commission or they will do us up; one or the 
other. Duck!” 

Everyone ducked, for they heard the screams 
of oncoming shells again. Four more projec- 
tiles burst within a biscuit toss of the gun, and 
while fortunately the shell splinters had done no 
further damage among the men of the first sec- 
tion, Ray heard cries of anguish from the gunpit 
on the other side of the screen of bushes telling 
plainly that someone had been hit in the second 
section of the First Platoon. 

“Come on, fellows, give ’em fits!” cried Ray, 
all nervousness gone. “Give ’em fits or they’ll 
get us. Read-y-y!” he called. Then “Fire!” 

Four guns roared simultaneously, then as the 
range was droned out again, another salvo and 
still another was fired for the Americans were 
working like demons now to have the prepon- 
derance of metal on their side ; to overwhelm the 
Boche battery with shells and drive them out of 
position or obliterate them entirely. It was a 
gun duel and a hot one while it lasted and for 
fifteen minutes the clash between the batteries 
kept up. Then gradually the German fire weak- 
















































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4 


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• 






• 


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. 














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OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


191 


ened considerably and finally it was reduced to a 
single solitary shell that came winging its way 
toward the clump of now all but obliterated 
bushes behind which the four guns of Battery J 
were hiding. And after three ineffective shots, 
this too died out and shells no longer dropped in 
the immediate vicinity of the battery but went 
screaming on overhead. 

“Put ’em out of action, by jingoes,” cried Ray, 
“but, but ” He silenced, for stretcher bear- 

ers were climbing over the banks of debris and 
shell- fur rowed earth, to remove two other mem- 
bers of the first section, victims of the brief but 
spirited artillery duel. 

The camouflaged screen of bushes, camou- 
flaged rocks, and the clump of natural bushes had 
all but disappeared under the pounding of the 
German shells, and that section of the ridge was 
swept as clear as a hay field after mowing. A 
new observer was crawling over the mud, past 
the first gun, to take the place filled by the 
grouchy Sergeant of yesterday, and men from 
the telephone division of the signal department 
were relaying wires that had been torn up by the 
sweeping fire. It had been some duel while it 
lasted, and the Yankees were thoroughly ex- 
hausted when it was finished. 

The second night came on and still the ridge 
was alight from end to end with flashing guns, 


192 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


and from somewhere other guns had been 
brought up to add their voices to the deadly choir. 
With darkness, ammunition transports began to 
appear again, and spent shells were gathered up 
and replaced with loaded ones, wounded men 
were removed from the zone of terror, hot meals 
were served by joking kitchen orderlies who hur- 
ried up to the gun emplacements staggering un- 
der smoking caldrons of beef stew. Hot coffee 
was served, and the men relaxed a bit. Some 
even curled up and slept soundly despite the roar 
of the guns. Ray was one of them. He found 
Spike, who had scratched out a sheltered place 
for himself under a bank of furrowed up earth, 
and gathering him in his arms rolled up in a 
blanket and dozed off, and presently Tommy and 
Chet, both relieved from service on the gun for 
a period of several hours, curled up beside him. 

At midnight they were back at it again, Ray 
astride on the Gunner’s seat, Warren back on No. 
i and Tommy relieving the man at the tele- 
phone. A Sergeant, a former Regular army man 
by the name of Bates, was in charge of the pla- 
toon, in the place of Lieutenant Ramsey, who was 
trying to make up sleep after thirty-six hours of 
toil. 

For hours they hammered away and at three 
o’clock in the morning Lieutenant Ramsey, in 
the company of Captain Blanchard, came up be- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


193 


hind the battery to look things over. Both were 
haggard and worn and very, very tired. After 
a cursory inspection the Captain went on and the 
Lieutenant relieved Sergeant Bates. Other 
shifts were made, too, and the gun, after a brief 
period of rest to cool off, went at it again. 

Four o'clock came on, and Lieutenant Ram- 
sey passed out word that the big smashing blow 
of the infantry would be delivered at four-fifty; 
at ten minutes to five the Yankees down there in 
the trenches would go over the top for the big 

drive toward T , that unfortunate city, that 

was now little more than a heaping ruin of mor- 
tar and bricks. 

“Take the new range to demolish what is left 
of the German barbed wire, to clear the way 
for the infantry," commanded the Lieutenant. 

That was news worth hearing. Despite their 
fatigue every man seemed to take a fresh grip on 
things and the firing of the battery was more pep- 
pery than usual and now the full voice of its fury 
was directed at the wire entanglement about the 
German trenches. 

Ray watched the illuminated dial of his time 
piece, and so did every other man. Slowly the 
big minute hand crept around. At four-thirty, 
the blackness of night began to pale and a soft, 
gray half-light came on. At four thirty-five, the 
battery was hammering away terrifically. Four- 


194 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


forty came and passed, still the hammering kept 
up, unabated. It was growing lighter too. They 
could see down into the valley. They could see 
gathering under the shelter of the earthy walls 
of the trenches below, hordes of helmeted figures. 
There was a suggestive glint here and there in 
the line too, where the morning light caught the 
polished surface of a bayonet. Ray watched the 
trench line and wondered vaguely how those 
chaps felt down there; what their sensations were 
as they gathered in those deep ditches the few 
moments before they went over the top in the 
face of certain death for many of them. 

“Gritty bunch/’ he whispered to himself. 
“Gritty, nervy bunch. I wonder if I would have 
the sand to stand up under that kind of fighting?” 

Four forty-five was at hand and still the bat- 
teries kept hammering away with the same re- 
lentless fury. The minute hand said forty-six, 
then forty-seven, forty-eight. The suspense for 
all was nerve-wracking, for the men of the Bat- 
tery realized that they had a big part to play in 
the attack. Four forty-nine and the command 
rang out, “Cease firing!” 

In an instant the ridge became deathly silent. 
Every gun stopped its roaring, as if a giant hand 
had been laid over the muzzle of all. It was a 
breathless, soundless period, and the sudden 
quiet rushing in after the unearthly roaring of 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


195 


two whole days and nights, was more startling 
and more shocking than the noise had been. The 
fellows gasped instinctively, and they all felt as 
if they were on the very brink of a chasm in 
which lurked dire calamity. 

The Lieutenant's voice broke the stillness. 

“Prepare for the barrage. Quick, men, Barnes, 
take the gun." 

Ray leaped to his post, relieving Tommy 
Wrenn, who was now acting Caisson Corporal 
and relief gunner. Range and firing data was 
shouted to him as he took his place. 

Ray made the correction swiftly, a shell was 
snapped into the breech. “Ready-y-y” he called. 

An instant later from down there in the 
trenches came a tremendous sky reaching cheer 
from thousands of throats and glancing down- 
ward Ray saw thousands and thousands of fight- 
ing Yankees come swarming over the tops of the 
trenches. Then with bayonets aglitter, and 
hoarse battle cries ringing out across the barren 
stretches of No Man's Land, they plunged madly 
forward in a history making charge against the 
Boche first line trenches. It was a wonderful and 
inspiring sight and Ray and everyone else who 
saw it were thrilled. 

But they had little time to watch the interest- 
ing panorama for orders were snapped out on 
every hand. 


196 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

“Commence firing !” rang out, up and down the 
ridge, and once more the terrific din of hundreds 
of guns roared forth, this time forming barrage 
fires. 

There were three distinct lines of shells fall- 
ing down there in the valley in the next instant. 
The first line was that which was being thrown 
out like a curtain of steel and fire in front of the 
advancing infantrymen, to protect them from 
counter-charges. Then to make assurance 
doubly sure, a second barrage was pounding 
down onto the already nearly obliterated German 
trenches. And the third was being dropped far, 
far behind the German lines to cut off any pos- 
sible reinforcements that might be waiting in 
the rear to move up at the time of attack. 

So thickly did the shells fall in these three 
areas that it would have been utterly impossible 
for a squad of men, let alone a full company, 
to break through anywhere. Indeed it is doubt- 
ful if an individual could have successfully 
dodged through the line of fire and steel and come 
out unscathed. How the artillerymen worked 
to keep those lines of bursting shells intact! 
Never before had Ray worked so hard. Though 
worn to the point of exhaustion with their long 
hours of work, they seemed to have been inspired 
to greater efforts by the battle cries that echoed 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 197 

from the valley, and they toiled and toiled relent- 
lessly. 

Forward rolled the line of battling Yankees, 
bayonets lowered. Out across N'o Man’s Land 
they swept, the picture of fighting strength and 
fury. The first line was followed by a second 
and the second by a third. On, on under the pro- 
tection of the barrage fire, they plunged, until 
presently they were tramping over the remains of 
the German barbed wire. Then they met the 
Huns. 

And what a roar went up as they clashed. It 
rolled forth through the valley and echoed from 
the hills on which the artillery thundered. It was 
a terrible struggle while it lasted. Brute strength 
against brute strength, the men of two nations 
in death grips. They clashed and swayed, tum- 
bled, fell, were up again, striking, grappling, 
firing. But there was right behind the brute 
force of the American; right and the determina- 
tion to sweep all before them. The Hun’s first 
line, a mass of ragged, unshaven, mentally-weak- 
ened madmen, driven crazy by days of terrific 
bombardment, met the Yankees and held them 
for a few minutes only. Then like hoodlums 
they broke and ran and the Americans ran after 
them beating them down, making them prison- 
ers, sending them to the rear and going forward 
again. The second line of trenches was swept 


198 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


clean as the first had been, and the third line was 
encountered. Here the Teutons, massed to meet 
the oncoming boys in khaki, stood their ground 
and fought hard for ten minutes. But even their 
valiant resistance could not stem the rush of the 
Yankees. The Americans clashed and fought 
like savages ; fought as only Americans can fight 
in hand to hand encounters. The Boches could 
never in their wildest dream conceive of so much 
concentrated fighting energy as was embodied 
in those charging lines of khaki. 

Ten minutes they stood up under the strain, 
and then, unable to resist any longer, they broke 
and ran, broke and scurried to the rear regard- 
less of officers , commands and even officers’ pis- 
tols, for the Hun leaders were ruthlessly shoot- 
ing down their own men who showed a sign of 
giving in. 

But even their wrath was as nothing in the 
face of the strength of the charging Americans. 
In a trice the battle became a rout. The Huns 
were retreating on every hand, throwing aside 
rifles and running madly, and over the shambling 
mass of retreating men hovered American aero- 
planes pouring a devastating fire into them with 
machine guns, while among them burst scores of 
shells from the American batteries. And behind 
was the always-present menace of the fighting 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 19 i> 

nephews of Uncle Sam, cutting them down and 
taking them prisoners in great droves. 

The big drive was effective. Forward plunged 
the victorious Yankees, forward to the edge of 
the city and through it. Street fights occurred 
for brief intervals but bayonets and hand gren- 
ades made Teutonic resistance futile. The Huns 
went down like ten-pins. The fighting Yankees 
cleared one street and then another ; they took the 
city hall, now a total wreck. They carried the 
cathedral, now a mass of mortar and broken 
statuary. They carried the railroad station, long 
since demolished. They swept on up and down 
the devastated railroad tracks, and pursued the 
Huns far behind the city. They even overtook 
German artillery fleeing for the rear, and cap- 
tured supply depots. The Germans were put in 
full retreat. Back they fell, back across the coun- 
tryside, across a flowing river, to new positions 
prepared for emergency five miles back of the 

city of T . The big push was successful. 

The Yankees took and held T and the sur- 

rounding country. It remained only for them to 
consolidate their gains to move up their artillery, 
and fasten their grip firmer, and almost before 
the battle was finished these activities were under 


way. 


BARRAGE EIRE BARNES 


£00 


CHAPTER XIV. 

UNDER THE HUNS’ GUNS. 

While the din of battle still sounded beyond 

the City of T and while the Yankees were 

still pushing forward, out there far beyond the 
edge of the city came the command for the bat- 
teries to move. 

Willingly, eagerly, the fellows, though tired 
and haggard and worn, laid hold of the field-piece 
and hauled it out of position. Caisson too was 
broken loose from the mud in which it had sunk 
at least a foot, and all along the line of the ridge 
where guns were concealed other men were doing 
the same thing. Presently the limbers were 
trundled up and then at a swift gallop came the 
spanking teams of horses, all eager for exercise 
after days of being stabled up. The air was 
chilly and damp and the ground, thawed out by 
two days of typical north France weather, was 
soggy mud. Yet the horses plunged through it 
stamping and tramping and appearing in fine 
fettle. 

“Whoa, you Salamander. You boys won’t be 
so kittenish by tonight,” yelled the lead driver, 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


201 


reining in the prancing off-horse and wheeling 
the teams around into position. 

In a jiffy the piece was limbered and hooked 
up, and the caisson followed. There appeared 
to be no extra horses for any of the petty officers, 
and only a poor sort of a mount for the Lieuten- 
ant, for many of the saddle horses had to be requi- 
sitioned to make up extra teams in which shells 
had killed an animal or two. This suited Ray, 
however, and the acting Caisson Corporal 
Tommy. Ray doubled up with Chet on the piece 
and of course Spike was with him. Tommy 
found a place on the caisson limber. Then with 
a rumble they were off, sweeping across a rolling 
shell-torn field toward the road that led into the 
valley, the carriages sinking sometimes hub deep 
into the soft shell-furrowed ground, as they 
rolled onward. 

All about were signs of the battle. The main 
road was choked with rushing ambulances, limp- 
ing wounded Yankees coming back, columns of 
disheveled looking prisoners, stumbling to the 
rear under guard, transports moving in the op- 
posite direction, dashing automobiles and sput- 
tering motorcycles. 

The batteries swung into the broad road at a 
swift gallop, with Ray’s gun in the lead of the 
column, and about forty other guns strung out 
behind it, for the batteries were moving up to new 


202 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


positions as fast as they could limber and har- 
ness. 

On they dashed toward the point where the 
Americans had recently been entrenched. Here, 
corps of engineers were already rebuilding the 
road and establishing ways over the recent deso- 
late strip that had been No Man’s Land. From 
far ahead came the rumble of battle, and here 
and there on the slopes beyond were columns of 
smoke ascending, marking the site of a burning 
farm house or barn, fired by the Huns in their 
retreat. 

Fires were burning in the City of T but 

they had been started by the furious bombard- 
ment of the American artillery. 

High overhead circled the war birds, Ameri- 
can, French and English aeroplanes, some headed 
swiftly toward the point of battle, others return- 
ing, their wings riddled with bullets, and flying 
low. One came down, not a hundred yards from 
the road along which the batteries were travel- 
ing, and the pilot, a picture of rage because of 
the accident, stormed up and down in front of 
the useless machine, probably heaping blasphemy 
upon the Huns who had shot his craft so full of 
holes. 

On rumbled the battery. Soon the guns had 
crossed No Man’s Land that was, and went trun- 
dling in through the terribly shattered terrain 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


203 


that had been German territory that morning. 
Here Ray and Chet and Tommy were able to 
see the awful effects of their shell fire. Trenches, 
once deep furrows, lined with concrete, were lev- 
eled or battered to an unrecognizable shape. Con- 
crete “pill boxes” or machine gun emplacements 
had been literally up-ended and tumbled over. 
Great blocks of granite were split asunder, and 
all about were ghastly sights; sights that made 
Ray and Chet and Tommy feel sick and nause- 
ated. Stark corpses lay everywhere, some half 
buried, some in horribly grotesque positions, 
some unmarked at all and some with gaping 
bloody wounds that made one sick to gaze upon. 
There were boys in khaki among them too, some 
of them wounded and crying out in pain, some 
limp and silent, and many of them with smiles of 
triumph on their white, upturned faces. 

Through this gruesome territory stretcher 
bearers and physicians moved about, searching 
for wounded. Ambulances were parked wherever 
they could find ground solid enough to come to 
rest upon, and hurrying “body snatchers,” as 
Tommy dubbed them, were carrying pathetically 
sagging stretchers toward the machines. 

There were chaplains moving about on this 
recent battle field too. Catholic, Protestant and 
Jewish clergymen, all brave and fearless, 
were administering to the wounded, whether 


204 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


Hun or Yankee. Here was a noble work and it 
made Ray thrill with pride. 

On they swept. Sometimes they followed 
stretches of roadway, and sometimes they were 
moving across mud barrens, the horses straining 
and tugging in the traces to move the heavy guns 
out of the clutches of the sucking sticky clay. 
Soon they had left the trench lines behind 
and were swinging along the road that lead into 
T . Here too they found American engi- 

neers at work clearing away debris and opening 
pathways for them to move up. 

Before long they were in the battle wrecked 

city of T itself and here they came upon the 

first of the contingent of battling Yankees, for 
many of the men, bayoneted rifles in hand, were 
hurrying through the wrecked houses, searching 
out hiding Germans and taking them prisoners. 

The sound of the battle ahead of them grew 
more distinct. Through the city galloped the 
serpentine line of batteries, out past the wrecked 
railroad station, and on over roads strewn with 
shattered motor transports, overturned, battery 
caissons and an occasional wrecked and aban- 
doned gun. On and on they pushed. They were 
traveling through a stretch almost unscarred by 
battle, an area which that morning had been far 
behind the German lines. Certainly the Ameri- 
can “Push” had been successful. 


OF THE FIELD AETILLEEY 205 

But it was evident that this territory would 
soon change complexion. The pretty clumps of 
leafless trees, the fields that were well laid out 
and in times past had borne big crops, would all 
be raw earth ere long, for even now German 
howitzers were hurling shells into them, as if 
feeling for places to launch a concentrated fire. 
The high explosive charges crashed down inter- 
mittently, and some fell dangerously near the 
swiftly moving horse-artillery column. 

Forward swept the artillery column. It was 
fast drawing into the zone of battle again. Soon 
the howitzer shells gave place to the 77’s of the 
German field artillery, but although the Yankee 
field-pieces came up under fire, the rain of shells 
from the Teutonic guns was far from accurate 
and by no means as heavy as it had been on the 
ridge. This meant that the Huns were moving 
back so fast that their artillery had little time to 
stand and deliver blow for blow. 

Presently the road, now well torn with shell 
and purposely destroyed by the retreating Ger- 
mans came out onto the banks of a river, and 
here the artillery men came upon the rear of the 
American supporting troops that had moved up 
swiftly, to the very bank of the stream, and dug 
in a second line of trenches. But Ray and Chet 
and the rest were surprised to find that at a score 
of places pontoon bridges had already been 


206 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


thrown across the stream, and that the advance 
forces of the Americans had gone across and 
had followed the Germans nearly two miles be- 
yond the river. It developed presently that the 
American pursuit had been so swift that many 
of the pontoons left by the Germans had been 
captured before they were destroyed, and that 
American engineers had built other bridges to 
aid the passage of the troops. 

On the other side two miles beyond the river 
the battle was raging. Rolling back to them like 
distant thunder came the rumble and roar of it. 

Coming up to the first of the pontoon bridges, 
the horse-artillery stopped for a space, while the 
officers determined whether the guns were to 
cross over or not. Meanwhile the bridge over 
which they were to travel was cleared of foot 
soldiers so that the guns would have a free right 
of way if necessary. 

The halt lasted for ten minutes and while they 
waited Ray and Chet and Tommy, and most of 
the rest of the fellows watched several aero- 
planes aloft that droned their way through the 
sky, the noise of their motors coming faintly 
down to the men. As they watched they beheld 
three machines coming down from the north. 
They were Boche machines and headed toward 
the river. Immediately, with a rattle of ma- 
chine guns, the American planes swooped for 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 207 

an attack but the fellows never had a chance to 
see the finish of the battle, for just as the Ger- 
man machines opened up, the command came to 
move, and the first section gun began to rumble 
across the bridge. 

Twice Ray glanced up to see the aeroplanes 
still at it. While two German machines were 
engaging three American machines, the third 
Teutonic aviator came skimming on up the river, 
directly over the pontoon bridges, then suddenly 
a shell came screaming overhead to burst with a 
roar but twenty feet from the next bridge down. 

“Jingoes, HI bet that machine is helping the 
Huns to range on the bridges,” exclaimed Ray, 
as the field piece dashed off on the opposite 
bank and started on northward to find its new 
position. More guns and more guns came over, 
and before long the entire column had come 
across. And meanwhile the Boche aeroplanes, 
or two of them (the third one having been 
brought down in flames) were dashing back to- 
ward the German line. 

Then just about that time things began to hap- 
pen with a vengeance. The din of battle sud- 
denly grew to greater volume and swept down 
from the north with tremendous fury. Shells 
began screaming overhead and a few moments 
later, a courier on a motorcycle from the Signal 
Division came speeding down the road. 


208 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


“Back! Back!” he shouted as he dashed up to 
Colonel Martin at the head of the column. The 
courier was waving a message in his hand. 

Sending his horse forward at a dash the 
Colonel leaned down from his saddle and seized 
the message. Then eagerly he tore it open, gave 
a hasty glance at its contents and then shoved it 
into the breast of his tunic. 

“Attention,” he signalled waving his arm and 
moving it slowly back and forth from right to 
left. Then “Right about march,” came the sig- 
nal with a circular wave of his arm. 

Like a giant piece of machinery, the column 
inverted itself, and with the first section gun now 
the last piece in line, the artillery made for the 
bridge, for the message that the Colonel had read 
was that the Huns, supported by tremendous 
reinforcements, had launched a terrific counter- 
attack before the Americans could consolidate 
their new position, and the Yankee forces were 
being driven back to the river. 

Back dashed the batteries, and the rain of 
shells on the roadway became heavier and heavier 
as they pressed on, for new German batteries 
back there to the rear were coming into position 
fast and opening up. 

Soon the advance guns of the rear battery 
(now first battery into line) were thundering 
across the pontoon bridges, under a heavy shell 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 209 

fire. Others followed and as swiftly as possible 
the pieces made the opposite bank, galloped to a 
nearby hill and came into position. 

The number four gun of Battery J was just 
going onto the bridge when the shell fire from 
the Germans began to increase in whirlwind fash- 
ion. 

“Wow, this crossing isn't going to be any 
cinch," exclaimed Ray, watching the bursting 
shells as the drivers hurried the horses onto the 
bridge. “One good shot and away goes the 
bridge," he added to Chet, who was watching the 
scene before them with anxious eyes, and gazing 
at the muddy flood of the river with misgiving. 

The fourth gun made the passage after a fash- 
ion. The horses were snorting and trembling 
and prancing about as each shell burst, and this 
to the imminent peril of wrecking the floating 
bridge. Then came the third gun. As fast as 
the strength of the rocking structure would per- 
mit, the drivers forced the horses onto it, and 
then urged them forward, trying to soothe their 
highly-wrought nerves with shouts of encourage- 
ment. A shell burst fifty feet away and one of 
the horses reared in the air, pawed frantically, 
uttered a shrill squeal of pain and then crumpled 
in a heap, flinging the rider overboard into the 
muddy and ice cold water of the river. 

The other drivers swarmed down, and while 


210 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


the man in the river climbed drippingly into a 
pontoon, the dead horse, killed by a flying shell- 
splinter, was cut out of the team, the body shoved 
overboard, and with the dismounted driver back 
in the saddle of the team-mate to the dead ani- 
mal, the gun proceeded on its way, following the 
caisson up the bank. 

The second gun was next, and with the caisson 
carriage in the lead, the drivers pushed the horses 
across in promiscuous fashion, but not without 
an accident that dismounted another driver and 
flung him into the icy water also. 

Chet gasped as he saw the second accident, 
then grinned ruefully. 

“Mighty glad I’m not a driver. I can’t swim, 
you know.” 

Ray recalled a scene on the shores of Lake 
Champlain that seemed in the dim and distant 
past, though it was but eight months since, when 
he had rescued Chet from drowning. 

“That’s right, by George, you can’t. Well, we’ll 
look out for you, Spike and I,” he said with a 
grin, giving Spike’s ear an affectionate tweak. 

The caisson of their section was on the bridge 
now. Their horses had started forward too. 
Presently they were rumbling across the pon- 
toons also. Ray glanced down stream and saw 
other bridges filled with transports and with in- 
fantry, recrossing the stream under heavy Ger- 


OF THE FIELD AETILLEEY 


211 


man fire. And not far distant was the remains 
of a completely wrecked bridge that had been 
shattered by the constantly increasing German 
cannonade. 

Onto the bridge rumbled the last piece in the 
column. The caisson and limber were halfway 
across. Shells were falling thicker and faster, 
and the shots were getting more accurate too. 
One burst but a few feet from the caisson horses 
and one of them went down in a tangle of har- 
ness and smashed bridge-planks ripped up by the 
shot. Hastily men stationed in the pontoons put 
down other planks, while the artillery drivers cut 
out the injured horses. But while they were at 
work another shell burst near by, and Ray and 
Chet saw two men stationed in one of the pon- 
toons, drop in a heap, one over the sides, his head 
and arms dragging in the water, and the other 
in the bottom of his pontoon. 

“Crackey, this is awful. Wish they'd hurry 
and get that horse cut out. I want to be off this 
bridge when the crash comes. I — wow — there's 
another close one — here comes another, duck!" 

“Crash! Bang!" exploded the shells and the 
pontoon structure rocked under the force of the 
shelling. When crash! crash! crash! Three of 
them burst in rapid succession. One of the 
horses of the gun team went down too. 

Chet and Ray were on their feet ready to help 


212 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


the driver, and Spike, who had been crouching 
on the seat between the two men, jumped up also 
for he was determined to follow Ray wherever 
he went. 

But they had hardly leaped down from the 
field-piece and stepped onto the rocking, swaying 
bridge, when a deafening explosion rent the air, 
blinding flashes assailed their eyes, and they were 
hurled violently off their feet. The Hun batteries 
had registered a direct hit with four shells at 
once and in that instant the pontoon bridge, with 
caissons, limber, field-pieces, horses and a dozen 
artillery men, became a shapeless wreck of flying 
timber, sections of iron, whirling limbs, shrieking 
animals, dying men, and a hundred other hor- 
rors. 

The crash was so terrific that Ray was stunned 
for the moment. He was dazed and paralyzed 
by the blinding, rending shock of it all. He felt 
himself hurled through the air. Sky, landscape, 
smoke, and flashing fire became merged into a 
whirling mass and he seemed part of it all. Then 
suddenly he fell with a resounding roar into 
something icy-cold into which he sank down, 
down, down. 

The cold, muddy water of the river revived 
him, and in a twinkling his presence of mind 
came back to him. And the very first thing he 
remembered, as splashing and gasping he came 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


213 


to the surface, was what Chet had told him. 

Chet? Where was he? He could not swim! 
It was his duty to find him. 

At once he became obsessed with that one 
thought ; that it was his duty to rescue Chet. He 
never stopped to think that perhaps the fellow 
had been torn limb from limb by the terrible 
explosion. 

Coming to the surface he gazed about and the 
horror that met his eyes was registered onto his 
brain so forcefully that he will never forget 
what he saw to his dying day. There was the 
shattered bridge, a great sagging gap in the mid- 
dle through which men, wounded animals and 
heavy field pieces had plunged into the river. 
Men and horses were struggling and thrashing 
about among the wreckage. The river was filled 
with floating timber. Heads bobbed here and 
there, the muddy water was turning crimson with 
the blood of the shell torn horses and men. 
Chunks of thin ice, tinted red, floated down to- 
ward him. It was sickening. It was horrible. 

Then back came the query, where was Chet? 
Desperately Ray began to swim against the cur- 
rent toward the mass of wreckage, but first he 
paused a moment to throw off his heavy over- 
coat. 

Suddenly above the turmoil, and in a silence 
between the detonation of bursting shells, Ray 


214 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


heard a frantic, appealing bark. It was Spike! 

Eagerly he turned about and gazed off toward 
midstream. There he saw a fuzzy yellow head 
bobbing up and down in the water swimming 
eagerly toward him. But as he looked one long 
white hand, and then another broke the surface 
near the dog, then a head and a horror-stricken 
face came up. The death-like hands seized Spike 
eagerly about the middle, the horror-distorted 
face emitted one piercing cry for help, then the 
man disappeared dragging the frantic Spike un- 
der with him. 

In that brief second Ray had been able to 
identify the terror stricken features as that of 
Chet. Madly he started swimming toward the 
spot regardless of bursting shell, regardless of 
the turmoil about him and of anything of that 
appallingly hideous scene. 

Again the dog's head came up followed by the 
terror-stricken face of Chet. Spike was frantic 
now. He knew those white hands clutched him 
in a death grip. He knew that the man was drag- 
ging him under to his death. He barked and 
yelped appealingly and Ray shouted words of en- 
couragement. At the shout, the horror-stricken 
face of Chet was turned toward him for one brief 
instant. Ray was about to shout again when a 
horrible thing happened. A heavy section of 
timber, breaking away from the mass just up- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


215 


stream, floated swiftly down, end foremost, and 
as Chet turned his head, the heavy section struck 
him with full force behind the ear, and the next 
moment man and dog disappeared under the 
water and Ray knew instinctively that it was for 
the last time. 

Helpless to assist his friend and his canine 
companion, Ray became frantic. He splashed 
his way forward in desperation trying hard to 
reach the spot where the two had gone down. 
Madly he swam, and when he reached what 
seemed to him to be the proper point he dived 
downward into the muddy, blood-streaked water. 
Down, down, down, he plunged, but all was hide- 
ous darkness below. He groped about in vain to 
find the body of Chet or the dog. He stayed un- 
der until his head was splitting and his lungs 
were bursting it seemed. And then when he 
came to the surface again, he gasped in a fresh 
breath only to go under again. 

The strain of it all was working him up to a 
terrible pitch. He was near the point of going 
mad though he did not know it. Indeed he knew 
nothing, absolutely nothing at all, save that he 
must find those bodies down there in the swirling 
muddy water. Again and again he plunged be- 
low. He was growing weak and faint and ex- 
hausted. The strain was awful. Yet he stayed 
at it. Down he went again, groping about in 


21 6 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


the dark depths, and kicking, wriggling and 
squirming to get even deeper. He was beside 
himself. He could not, he would not leave off 
searching until he had found Chet and Spike and 
brought them to life once more. They could not 
be drowned. They must not drown. They were 
not dead. It was wrong. It was horrible. It 
was 

He came up for air again but hardly had his 
head broken the surface when he too received a 
jolting crack from a piece of floating timber. 
For one brief moment he struggled against un- 
consciousness and in that instant he flung out his 
arms and seized the floating plank that had struck 
him. Then all went blank. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


217 


CHAPTER XV. 

THROUGH TH^ GERMAN LINES. 

Twilight was coming on when Ray became 
conscious. It took him a long time to collect his 
scattered wits and to realize all that had tran- 
spired and all that he had gone through. A pain- 
ful bruise on the side of his head helped his recol- 
lections somewhat and after a time the whole 
thing came back, — the crash of the shells, the 
shattered bridge, the plunge into the water, the 
frantic efforts to save Chet and Spike and finally 
the crack on the head that had made him uncon- 
scious. Where was he now and how did he get 
there? Those were the questions that leaked 
through his brains. 

He was lying under something he knew. With 
an effort he made out that it was a part of an 
upturned and badly smashed pontoon from one 
of the wrecked bridges. He stirred and at that 
moment he realized that someone else was hiding 
under the pontoon with him, doubtless the per- 
son who had dragged him to its safety. He 
turned over, to look full into the white and drawn 


218 


BAEEAGE FIEE BAENES 


face of Tommy Wrenn, sleeping the sleep of ex- 
haustion, close beside him. 

Ray’s movements awakened Tommy. With a 
start and a subdued cry he sat up. Then a sorry 
grin broke over his face. 

“Jimminy, I was dreaming about the Bodies,” 
he said. Then he added, “Great smokes, but I’m 
tired. I — I — well I must have fallen asleep try- 
ing to bring you to, Ray. How are you ? Feeling 
better ?” 

“Well, I don’t feel anything to brag about,” 
shivered Ray, for his wet garments were stiff 
with ice, and there was a disagreeable chill in 
the air. 

“Well, you feel a heap better than you would 
have been feeling if I hadn’t found you when I 
did,” said Tommy with a grim smile. 

“Oh, I don’t know. In that case I wouldn’t 
have any feelings by now,” said Ray pessimis- 
tically. 

“Huh, you ungrateful yap. I almost wish I 
had left you out in the river,” replied Tommy. 

“No, no, Tommy, I’m not ungrateful but — but 
— shucks, I feel so rotten; so miserable. Say, 
what happened after I got that rap on the head?” 

“Well to tell you the truth I don’t know what 
happened much for a while. I remember the 
shells andlhe bridge going through. I was help- 
ing cut out a dead horse in the caisson team. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


219 


Then there was some lively scrambling, and a 
whirl of things and when I got my senses back 
I was in the water amongst a lot of floating tim- 
ber. The next thing I knew I saw a big joist 
floating down with someone hanging onto it. 
That was you. I nabbed you by the collar and 
I could hardly get your arm from around the 
beam. You sure had a death grip on it.” 

“There was the dickens to pay all around. All 
the up-stream bridges were smashed, and a lot 
of our troops were caught on this side, the wrong 
side of the river. And the Huns were coming on 
like all get out. Say, didn’t those doughboys 
make a stand of it. Man, I never saw such a 
battle and so much rifle firing. 

“Bridges were being smashed all along the 
stream and there was a bunch of men caught over 
here. Then the Huns came down the river on 
their flank and started to drive ’em down stream 
where a lot of other men were massing. There 
were men in the river all about, some swim- 
ming for the other shore and some not doing very 
much of anything until the Huns came down the 
bank and began popping at their heads as if they 
were a lot of bobbing corks. I tried to get you 
over to the other side but this side was nearer, 
and in the fracas, I lugged you in under here. 
There’s a lot of wreckage piled up on top and 
the Boches never discovered us, though they’ve 


220 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


been swarming up and down the bank here for 
hours.” 

“Crackey, what a mess. Say, what happened 
to the fellows who got caught on this side?” 
asked Ray. 

“Oh, they were massing down stream about a 
mile from here. Guess they must have dug 
themselves in by this time, or else they are wiped 
out. They sure put up a game scrap. There's 
a heap doing down there right now. Hear 'em?” 

Ray was conscious of heavy rifle firing some 
distance away. 

“Yep, I hear 'em. But, say, how are we lo- 
cated here? Don't you think we'd best get across 
the river?” 

“Swell chance,” said Tommy with a grin, 
“why, man, we're behind the German front line. 
They put new bridges across up stream and 
pushed over and they are about a mile inland on 
the other bank now.” 

“No! You don’t mean it,” exclaimed Ray, 
sensing the danger of their situation immedi- 
ately. 

“I do mean it. This river cuts the battle line 
at an angle so far as I can dope it out. The 
Boches' front line opposite here is about a mile 
back from the river. It runs at an angle to the 
river, and crosses over about a mile down. That 
is where the fellows caught on this bank are 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 221 

holding out. At least that is the way it was form- 
ing when I took to cover. Man, we have been 
under this doggone pile of lumber for about six 
hours. It’s after supper-time now, oh boy.” 

“And no supper in sight,” muttered Ray tragi- 
cally. 

Then from make-believe tragedy he slipped 
into real unhappiness, for of a sudden the events 
of the day seemed to press in upon him and he 
felt for the time how very serious and heart- 
breaking was this business of war. Memories 
of the last frantic few minutes of Chet’s life, and 
of the unhappy fate of Spike, swept through his 
mind and he became very glum. Indeed there 
was a' suspicion of moisture about his eyes, which 
Tommy fortunately could not see because of the 
gathering darkness. 

“Oh, Tommy, this is really terrible,” he sighed. 
“Think of the poor fellows of our section. I’ll 
bet we are the only two left alive right now, and 
it don’t look like we stood much of a chance of 
getting clear with a whole skin. Fact is, I feel 
almost dead myself, right now. And then the 
memory of that bridge, and the men and the 
horses — ugh. And poor Chet and Spike.” 

“Spike ! By George, I forgot all about the poor 
little beggar, what happened to him, Ray?” 

And then Ray, glad of a chance to unburden 
his overwrought mind to a sympathetic listener, 


222 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

told of the tragedy that had been enacted before 
his eyes. 

Tommy became mighty sober too when he 
heard of it all, and for a long time the two boys 
sat shivering in their dark, damp, cavernlike hid- 
ing-place in utter silence. Finally Ray spoke. 

“Well, Tommy, what shall we do? It's time 
we made a break for somewhere. If I sit here 
much longer I’ll freeze. I — shuss-s-s-s — what’s 
that, Tommy?” 

The boys stopped talking and listened. There 
was a steady tramp — tramp — tramp of feet along 
the banks of the river, and the sound of men talk- 
ing in a guttural tongue. 

“Bodies. A patrol perhaps,” whispered 
Tommy as the sound died away. Then he added, 
“Say, come on, let’s get out of here. First thing 
we know they will be along to salvage this lum- 
ber and then they’ll put us up like two rabbits out 
of a brush pile and we’ll be dead game, sure’s 
you live.” 

“Well, how shall we go? Which way?” asked 
Ray. 

“I’ve been doping on that,” said Tommy; “if 
the battle line crossed the river why the best 
thing we can do is sneak down the river as far 
as we can and see if we can get through the Ger- 
man line to the American trenches.” 

“Swell chance we have,” said Ray. But sud- 


OP THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


223 


denly he brightened up. “I have a hunch. Let’s 
sneak down the bank as far as we can, and then 
when we get near the German lines, float down 
the river. Find some old log or plank or some- 
thing and lie on that. You know the way the 
Indians used to do. We can float right through 
the Boche lines and behind the American lines 
if ” 

“Yeh, that’s it, if — and say, fellow, you don’t 
mind cold water, do you ? Man, we’d freeze if we 
went out into the river tonight. Bet there’s a 
scum of ice on the river a half inch thick by now.” 

“Aw, rats, that water is moving along too much 
to get any amount of ice on it in this weather. 
It isn’t so beastly cold. It’s just raw,” said Ray 
as he tried hard to suppress a shiver. “I’ll admit 
getting into the water isn’t going to be any pie. 
I’m not keen for it but believe me I prefer it to 
a Mauser bullet or a spell in a German prison 
camp. Anyhow come on, we’ll freeze to death 
if we sit here. Let’s crawl out.” 

“All right, anything goes with me,” said 
Tommy, as Ray, his teeth chattering, and shiver- 
ing all over, began to feel for the easiest way out 
of the now thoroughly dark pontoon. 

The night was blackness itself. The river 
flowed sluggishly along with only a lighter streak 
in the darkness, and the boys could see but a few 
feet ahead of them in the shell-torn woods that 


224 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

fringed the bank. Far down the river on their 
side came the roar of battle, the sharp rattle of 
riflery and the clock-like pop-pop-pop-pop-pop- 
ping of machine guns which, once heard, a fellow 
never forgets and can always identify. 

Behind them across the river were German 
pontoons, leading to the opposite bank, and from 
far behind a hill that stood up in the darkness 
came sounds, of battle too, where the Germans 
had pushed back the Americans toward the city 

of T , captured that morning by the Yankee 

forces and now being defended against Teutonic 
counter-attack, until heavier American forces 
could be brought into action. It was quite appar- 
ent from where the boys stood that the river and 
the battle line crossed each other like the two 
arms of a huge “X” and that if they followed 
the upper left hand stroke of the “X” and trav- 
eled down the river, they would have a chance of 
gaining American territory, providing they could 
get by the force of Boches who were between 
them and the fighting Yankees. 

“Come on,” whispered Tommy to Ray, who 
was shivering with the cold, in his ice-encrusted 
clothes, and who felt a peculiar pain in his chest 
and back which made him mighty uncomfortable. 
“Come on, Ray, but for goodness’ sake watch 
your step, there may be Huns behind any bush 
around here.” 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLEEY 


225 


As craftily as Indians, the boys moved forward 
through the night, picking their way over up- 
rooted bushes and shell-shattered tree trunks that 
skirted the river. Slowly but stealthily they crept 
onward toward the roar of battery, their eyes 
searching the darkness for signs of the hateful 
Huns. Danger lurked on every hand and they 
realized that they could not be too careful. Then 
too their nerves and their imagination were so 
wrought up by all that they had gone through 
that everything startled them. A tree stump with 
a single branch remaining, caused them to drop 
into a shadow and lie hidden for at least five min- 
utes before they could be certain that the thing 
was not a man with a gun. There were, how- 
ever, real horrors there in the night, for Tommy, 
in the lead, presently tried to step over a dark 
object that looked like a log, only to put his foot 
down upon something gruesomely soft. A close 
inspection revealed to them that the log was the 
body of a dead American and Tommy and Ray 
shuddered as they hurried away from the spot. 

They ran across other still forms in the dark- 
ness too, and many of them were Huns, for an 
open battle had raged all along the river bank 
as the Yankees had been driven slowly down 
stream to join forces with the men who were cut 
off below them. 

Twice they came within a few feet of being 


226 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


discovered by German patrols that were roaming 
the bank. Once four men came tramping* through 
the woods, their rifles over their shoulders, but 
their mumbled guttural conversation made 
known their presence to the boys and they had 
time, fortunately, to hide while the Bodies 
passed. Another time a squad of seven men 
came stumbling through the darkness, and once 
they came upon a working party of engineers 
who were building another pontoon bridge across 
the river. 

It took some real scouting and manoeuvering 
to get around these men, without being discov- 
ered, and their hearts were in their mouths most 
of the time for they knew that a suspicious noise 
would doubtless send a fusillade of bullets in their 
direction. Again they suddenly came to a break 
in the woods to find themselves on the edge of a 
roadway, down which silently marching German 
troops were moving. From the shadows of the 
roadside the boys watched these Huns move by, 
and it gave them a feeling of elation to think that 
little did the Boches realize that hostile eyes were 
watching them from such a short distance. 

Two hours of the hardest kind of going in the 
darkness brought them nearer the edge of the 
battle zone. A mile ahead they could see the 
scintillating flashes of rifles, and hear the rip- 
ping, tearing sound of machine-guns and the 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


227 


roar of batteries, drawn up close to the trenches 
and pounding away at the American defenses at 
pointblank range. There were bursting shells, 
too, and Ray and Tommy realized that these 
came hissing through the darkness from across 
the river, and were the shells of the American 
field-pieces, lending what aid they could to the 
men cut off by the river. 

“Shucks,” muttered Ray, “that American artil- 
lery fire is mighty weak. They haven’t many 
guns in position across the river apparently.” 

“Give ’em time, give ’em time,” said Tommy 
crisply. “Things are in a mess over there I’ll 
bet. Before morning though, I’ll guarantee this 
side of the river won’t be very safe for the 
Boches. Shucks, they’ll have a couple of hun- 
dred guns in action then, mark my words. You 
don’t suppose the Yankee artillery is going to 
let the doughboys cut off over here do all the 
hard work. Man can’t you picture what a scram- 
ble there is over yonder getting guns into posi- 
tion, bringing ’em up from miles behind the 
lines? We fellows were away to the rear this 
morning, and at that I guess we were the ad- 
vance batteries by several hours.” 

Ray could picture the scramble that was taking 
place behind the Amercan lines to bring up the 
artillery, and it made him terribly homesick. 


228 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

“Wish I were over there taking- a hand in it,” 
he said. 

“So do I,” assured Tommy, then he added, 
“Well, cheer up. The worst is yet to come and 
if we don't make tracks to get out of here mighty 
soon it's likely to come at any minute. We've 
got to move mighty cautiously.” 

“Let's sneak up as close to the battle line as 
we can and then look for something to float down 
the river on,” said Ray. 

“Bu-r-r-r, I-I-suppose we'll have to. Seems 
about the only way to make it, but, crackey, how 
I dread that water,” whispered Tommy. 

Again they began to move forward toward the 
region of bursting shells and zipping bullets. Be- 
fore long they found themselves opposite, and 
about two hundred yards from a flashing Ger- 
man battery. Each time the gun spat its tongues 
of fire into the night, the men of the gun crew 
stood silhouetted against the weird light like so 
many demons. Ahead of them a half mile, they 
could see the flaming outline of the Hun trenches. 

“Say, Ray, we're getting up uncomfortably 
close now. Hear those bullets?” whispered 
Tommy, drawing closer to Ray as they crouched 
in a shadow. 

“You bet I do*” muttered Ray, “and I think — 
shush-s-s-s, Tommy. What’s that?” 

“What’s what — Oh, I see it — Crackey, Ray, 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


229 


that’s another battery, coming into position right 
back of us. Say, come on. Let’s beat it. Man, 
we’ll be caught in front of that flame spitter or — 
Come on.” 

As swiftly as they could move through the 
darkness and over the uneven ground they hur- 
ried toward the river bank, getting out of the 
way of the on-coming battery only just in time. 

Like frightened rabbits they scuttled through 
the darkness, and presently they found themselves 
at the edge of the sluggishly moving and very cold 
looking stream. 

"Wow — I’d almost rather be captured than 
take a chance in that water,” shuddered Ray, 
looking at the far from enticing looking stream. 

"I — I — think I’d rather stay right here and be 
killed by the Boches, ’cause I know I’m going to 
die when I climb into that old drink,” sighed 
Tommy. 

"Well, come on, we can only die once, and we 
have half a chance there, where we haven’t any 
if we stick here much longer,” said Ray, as he be- 
gan searching in the darkness for something 
floatable. 

Luck was with these two daring young Ameri- 
cans, that was certain, for Ray had hardly stum- 
bled fifty feet down the river bank when he came 
hurrying back through the darkness. 

"Come, Tommy, here’s just the thing; a couple 


230 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


of planks from a wrecked pontoon bridge,” he 
whispered. Tommy followed him and found two 
heavy planks partly stranded on the bank. 

Ray, without any ceremony, shoved one out so 
that it floated clear, the plank breaking a thin 
scum of ice that had formed about it. Then, with 
a shudder, and a gulp, he stepped into the cold 
water, and, crouching low, waded out until he 
was up to his middle. His teeth were chattering, 
and he breathed with an effort, for the cold water 
seemed to cramp every muscle, but a glance down 
the river bank toward the German trenches as- 
sured him that he had little to choose between. It 
was the river or the chances of a German bullet, 
so making as little splash as possible, he ducked 
under, then drawing the plank under his chest 
and stomach, he lay flat on it and began to paddle 
softly out toward midstream, there to join the 
mass of floating debris that came down from 
above. 

Tommy watched him until he was well out in 
the middle of the stream, and noted with interest 
that Ray and his craft merged with the rest of the 
floating stuff and could not be identified from a 
log. 

"Ray is right, that’s a cinch,” he said to him- 
self, "and he sure has got nerve to take a chance 
in this cold water. Well, if he can, I can,” said 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 231 

Tommy, resolutely, and with teeth chattering, he 
proceeded to follow Ray’s example. 

Ray estimated that he would have to float at 
least three quarters of a mile or possibly a mile 
to get through the German lines, and in the rear 
of the American trenches, and he knew, too, that 
with the river flowing sluggishly, as it was, he 
would have to remain in the water nearly an hour 
before he reached his destination. Such thoughts 
were appalling for the water was dreadfully cold, 
so to hurry the speed of his craft he began pad- 
dling cautiously with his hands. And he noted 
with satisfaction that gradually he was passing 
other pieces of drift in the stream. 

On and on he floated, drawing slowly nearer the 
trenches. On the bank, by the weird light of bat- 
tle, he could see stealthy figures slinking in the 
shadows; Huns, working their way to or from the 
trenches. He had to be a lot more cautious now, 
and sometimes, for the space of moments, he lay 
rigidly frozen to the big plank, not daring even to 
paddle for fear his movements would attract at- 
tention of suspicious Boches on the banks. 

Presently he heard a vicious thug-g-g close to 
his head, and a tiny jet of water spattered up in 
his face. It was the noise of a bullet striking close 
to him. Ray was startled for a moment, and his 
heart was in his mouth, so to speak, for he had a 


232 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


feeling that someone on the bank had discovered 
him and was firing at him. 

A moment later he heard another thug-g-g, and 
then two more muffled thumps as bullets hit the 
water near by, and he was on the point then of 
rolling off the plank and diving under. But a 
glance along the water showed him other tiny jets 
leaping up from the surface, and he realized that 
they were all stray bullets from the trenches. He 
breathed a bit easier after this was made clear to 
him, and hoped sincerely that no more strayed 
closer to him than the first one had come. 

Down he floated. The din of battle was roar- 
ing in his ears now, for on either bank were 
trenches of the Germans which came up to the 
river and stopped there. And far beyond, down 
the river, he could see the line of American 
trenches facing the Boches. Soon he would be 
between them, in No Man’s Land — no, “No Man’s 
River,” he told himself, jokingly, for even under 
the stress and hardship of such a situation, his 
sense of humor did not entirely desert him. 

Slowly, oh, so slowly, his plank floated onward. 
He dared not move hand or foot now, for he was 
not fifty yards from the Germans. He could see 
fighting Huns distinctly, as their guns flashed, he 
could hear their shouts of anger, and the groans 
and cries of the wounded. He noted with interest 
that machine guns had been placed on both banks 


OP THE FIELD ARTILLERY 233 

at the river's edge, so that the Americans could 
not come up by way of the overhanging banks and 
turn the Bodies' flanks. The roar of these flame- 
spitting guns was deafening, for it seemed to him 
as if the sound struck the surface of the river and 
actually rebounded into his ears. What if one of 
those should suddenly be turned upon him! He 
lay as still as a statue. 

Slowly his plank swung by the German posi- 
tion. The fighting Huns' first trench was behind 
him now. Ahead he could see the beadlike flash- 
ing of the American rifles, he was between the 
trenches now. Those bullets that hissed over his 
head were both German and American. He was 
in a hazardous position. One of those messengers 
of death, traveling low, might pop him off his 
raft a corpse, to sink to the bottom of the river. 
He hardly dared raise his head for fear of stop- 
ping one of the lead and steel pills. He flattened 
himself out like a squirrel to a tree trunk, and 
hoped fervently that he might come through 
safely. He wondered how Tommy was faring be- 
hind him. He was vaguely glad he was not 
Tommy, for every foot of river that was put be- 
hind him seemed like a mile of nightmare. It was 
terrible. Never in his life had he been under such 
a nervous strain. 

On and on floated the plank. He was nearing 
the American trenches now. His plank, caught 


234 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


by the sluggish current, was being moved in 
nearer the bank. He noted that it was moving 
toward the side on which the small group of 
Yankees were isolated, and all but surrounded by 
Germans. That was the wrong side to land on, 
but he dared not try for the other. Any sus- 
picious movement might bring not only German 
bullets, but the American bullets as well, crashing 
toward him, and he knew that the American bul- 
lets would be well aimed, for doubtless the be- 
sieged Yankees were watching the river closely, 
not willing to chance a surprise from that direc- 
tion. 

Round and round turned the plank as it floated 
downward. The American trenches were not 
fifty feet away. Soon he had approached within 
forty feet, then thirty, then twenty, then ten. 
Now he was passing them. In a few minutes he 
would be in their rear and he would be able to 
climb out. He was within wading distance of 
shore. A few seconds longer he waited, then 
slipping off the plank, he stood up, in water waist 
deep, and started toward the bank. 

u Put up yer hands, you butcher/’ yelled some- 
one from the bank. 

Ray’s hands went above his head instantly. 
“Don’t shoot,” he called nervously, at the same 
time, for he was fearful that a bullet would come 
speeding toward him. “Don’t shoot,” he yelled 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


235 


again, “I’m an American. Barnes, is my name.” 

“Come ashore then, but keep yer hands up,” 
called the voice, and slowly, but crouching very 
low to avoid the Hun bullets that were hissing 
past, he climbed up onto the bank and into the 
trench, to face a man with levelled rifle. 

“By George, it is an American,” exclaimed the 
big Yankee Infantryman, “where in time did you 
come from?” 

“Down the — river,” chattered Ray. “L — lost 
our g-g-gun on one of the bridges this afternoon. 
B-b-been all this t-t-time getting down. N-n- 
nother man coming. L-look for him, w-will you, 
but f-f-for goodness' sake g-g-giveme an over- 
coat, or something, f-f-first. I’m nearly f-f-fro- 
zen to death.” 

“Help yourself. There’s mine,” said the infan- 
tryman, pointing to a pile of coats across the low 
parados or back wall of the shallow trench. The 
fighting infantrymen, unwilling to be hampered 
by heavy garments, had cast off their great coats. 
The Germans were making things quite warm 
enough for them as it was, assured the infantry- 
man, and they really didn’t need the heavy gar- 
ments anyway. 

Ray gratefully accepted one of them, and as he 
was wrapping it about his dripping, icy clothes, 
the infantryman shouted: 

“Here comes your friend now.” 


236 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


Ray looked out of the trench to behold the drip- 
ping figure of Tommy staggering up the bank. A 
moment later he stumbled into the trench and fell 
in a heap, all but exhausted with the ordeal he 
had passed through. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


237 


CHAPTER XVI. 

HOLDING THE) RIVE:r SALIENT. 

They had landed on the wrong side of the river 
for safety sake, and there was no doubting that 
Ray and Tommy, bundled in overcoats, but still 
shivering because of their wet and frozen under- 
garments, crouched for a few moments in the 
bottom of the shallow trench that was being de- 
fended by a mere handful of Yankees. The 
trench stretched out through the night in a regu- 
lar half moon, curving away from the river and 
then back again, and in that semi-circle of 
ploughed-up ground, battling like demons, less 
than four companies of Yankees, all that was left 
of nearly a complete regiment, were making a last 
and desperate stand, and waiting hopefully and 
patiently for the engineers to push bridges across 
the river in back of them, so that reinforcements 
could be brought up, or so that they could retire 
to safety. 

What a battle these Americans were putting 
up! It was wonderful. It was awe-inspiring. 
Wounded men, hardly able to raise themselves on 
their elbows, lay propped against the parapet fir- 


238 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


in g slowly but accurately, or else loading rifles 
for others to fire. In the trench, or limp and 
hopeless on the ground behind it, lay the forms of 
those who had “gone west,” as the British Tom- 
mies say. And there was an appalling number of 
these. 

“Wow, what a shambles. It's goodnight for us 
all, I guess,” cried Ray to the big infantryman, 
who was temporarily out of the fight while he ad- 
justed the lock of his rifle. 

“Huh, we thought it was goodnight to us hours 
ago, but we still are holding out, youngster. They 
won’t get us until every man of us is dead. Why, 
we’ve beaten back four charges so far, and they 
are bringing up more men all the time. There 
are thousands out there; thousands of bloody 
Huns, and yet they can’t beat us — haven’t yet, and 
never will, till we’ve all cashed in. We’re fighting 
here, you fellows ! The Boches never bucked up 
against such a stiff proposition in their lives.” 

Ray caught the man’s enthusiasm, and, in spite 
of the shivers that racked him, and in spite of the 
burning pain in his chest and back, and the fever 
that surged over him, he felt stirred. 

“Tommy, by crackey, it’s up to us to fit in here 
somewhere and do some scrapping ourselves. 
Come on. Get a rifle.” 

“Atta boys,” said the big infantryman, as he 
crept back into position. “You’re both there with 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 239 

the sand, so git busy. We need you, let me tell 
you/’ 

Eagerly, Tommy and Ray began to search for 
a discarded rifle. Ray found one, still clutched by 
the now cold hands of a dead infantryman. Ten- 
derly he took it from the now useless fingers. 
Then, eagerly he stripped the dead man of his 
cartridge belt and bayonet. With this in one hand 
and the rifle in the other, he crawled back to the 
side of the tall Yankee. Then, slipping a clip of 
cartridge into the magazine, he looked over the 
top of the trench. 

“Don’t shoot till you see something to nick, 
then blow it to blazes,” shouted the infantryman, 
who was looking craftily for a German head, in 
the trenches across the way. 

“Wang!” roared his rifle the next moment, then 
with a chuckle he clicked another cartridge into 
the barrel. “ ’Nother dead one,” he gloated. 

Ray caught the spirit of the thing right off. 
“Make every shot tell,” he muttered. Then, 
“Bang, got my first one,” he grunted, as he saw 
a lifeless form roll over the mound of earth oppo- 
site and stretch out limply in No Man’s Land. 

Tommy was beside him. 

“I got one,” he yelled to his companion eagerly. 

Tommy looked at him with feverishly bright 
eyes. 

“Ray, I’m going to get a Boche for every fel- 


240 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


low in the first section that went under today, and 
I guess they all went but us two.” 

There was something strangely tense and vi- 
cious in Tommy’s attitude and tone of voice, and 
Ray looked at him a second time. 

“Tommy, you’re sick,” he exclaimed. 

“I know it,” said Tommy, “and I think I’m go- 
ing to kick in, too, but, believe me, I’m not going 
to die before I get some Huns. I — I — think I 
have — well, I don’t know, but it hurts here.” He 
put his hand to his chest. 

Ray was conscious of an intense pain in his 
own chest too. It worried him for a few minutes. 
But his thoughts were taken from himself the 
next instant, by a ringing cry that echoed up and 
down the ragged trench line. 

“Here they come-e-e! Stand to and give ’em 
fits!” cried the valiant Yankees, as from over the 
tops of the mounds of earth opposite leapt hordes 
of wolf-like Huns, who, with bayonets fixed, and 
running low, charged toward the American de- 
fenses. 

The mere sight of those beast-like figures that 
swarmed toward him, stirred in Ray an ungovern- 
able rage. He saw red before his eyes. He was 
consumed with the fire of hatred. He thought of 
nothing else but to stop that on-coming mass, to 
scatter it, to split it asunder and kill, kill, kill. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


241 


He wanted to see them all rolling about in agony 
on the ground. 

Regardless of the protection of the trenches, he, 
like many others, stood up and fired. His rifle 
spat as fast as he could operate the bolt and trig- 
ger, and as each shot leapt out he saw the man he 
aimed at throw up his hands and drop. He fired 
madly, but with care and accuracy, and his rifle 
was dealing death as furiously as those of the rest 
of the Yankees. 

What riflery that was ! The lines of on-coming 
Boches melted away like snow before the sun. 
They went down almost as fast as they came over 
the top. Where a squad came on, but two of them 
were on their feet at the end of ten paces. It was 
American marksmanship that did it. Supreme in 
the art of quick and accurate shooting, as all 
Americans are, and should be, the Yankees be- 
hind those trenches, stood up fearlessly and gave 
battle to the on-coming Huns, simply riddling 
their ranks with rifle fire. 

It was the old Bunker Hill methods of the Rev- 
olution — "wait until you see the whites of their 
eyes — then fire.” The Americans made certain 
that every bullet told its tale of death. The 
Boches never faced such terrifically accurate 
shooting before. They could not conceive it. 
They could not believe it. 

They stumbled onward, as if dazed. Forward 


242 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


they came, almost helpless in the face of sudden 
death. Soon their fast thinning ranks were broken 
and shattered. Other Huns — another wave of 
them, were sent over the top to close the gaps, but 
they, too, melted away. The first fifty feet in 
front of their trenches were piled high with dead 
and wounded. They had to step on or over their 
fallen companions to charge. It was terrible. It 
was hideous. No human beings could face such 
a leaden hail as that poured into them by the 
Americans, not that the volume was so great, but 
the accuracy was deadly. 

Three hundred shots are often fired in battle to 
kill one man, so the Huns believed. Here, it 
seemed as if not one in three hundred shots missed 
killing a man. The Teutons, officers and men 
alike, could not comprehend how so few Ameri- 
cans could accomplish so much destruction. The 
charging men never got beyond their own side of 
No Man’s Land before, in utter panic, they broke 
and fled back to the protection of their trenches 
again. 

“That’s breaking it up in good shape,” yelled 
the Yankee next to Ray. “That’s five times we’ve 
chewed ’em to pieces. They can’t break through. 
They can’t. Come on, you dirty butchers, Ugh!” 
— he was standing up in the trench and shaking 
his fist madly at the Huns. Suddenly he crum- 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 243 

pled in a heap beside Ray* A Hun bullet had 
found him. 

“Got me, hang ’em, in the shoulder,” he 
grunted. “Felt like a sledge hammer blow. 
Knocked me plum down. It’s bleeding, too, I 
guess. I feel the warm stuff tricklin’ down inside 
my shirt. Look at it, will you, Bo.” 

Eagerly Ray looked, to find a torn, jagged 
wound in the flesh of the fellow’s shoulder-mus- 
cle. 

“Only a flesh wound. No bones broken, are 
there ?” Ray queried, as he saw the chap move his 
arm back and forth. 

“Bet your boots they ain’t. Say, put something 
around that. Something tight.” 

Ray found a first aid bandage, and with the 
man’s bayonet, ripped open tunic and shirt and 
wrapped the arm tightly. Presently the man was 
on his knees again, crawling toward the parapet. 

“Good as ever,” he grunted, “an’ that means 
that I have to get a dozen more Germans before 
I quit. Wang! Got one right off. Bang! Got 
his mate.” The big fellow grinned at Ray, who 
was back firing beside him. 

Tommy, on Ray’s left, was doggedly silent. He 
crouched there, wrath burning in his feverishly 
bright eyes, his rifle always ready. Now and then 
it leapt to his shoulder and ripped a shot toward 
the Germans, then Tommy would grin an ugly 


244 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


grin and snap another cartridge into the chamber. 

It was a grim and desperate fight, and the 
Boches probably in the whole history of the war 
had never tackled such a stubborn proposition as 
that salient of the Yankee lines, that reached 
across the river, cut of! from the rest of the Amer- 
ican forces. 

And, as the battle lasted, and one by one the 
Americans rolled down from the parapet, help- 
less and useless, the rage of the men seemed to 
grow fiercer. To know that slowly their number 
was decreasing, and despite the hundreds of Huns 
they slaughtered, hundreds more were ready to 
take their places, roused that unbeatable Yankee 
spirit to its highest pitch. They would not yield. 
They would not give in. To the last man they 
would fight. To the last cartridge they would 
shoot. With every passing minute their feelings 
became more intense. Ray found himself in a 
towering rage. Hatred surged through him like 
a consuming fire. He was ready and willing to 
do anything to beat the Huns. He gave never a 
thought for his own life. He wanted to live only 
to beat the Boches, and if he could account for all 
the Huns before him he would die gladly. 

Again the Huns tried a charge. Officers in the 
German trenches with loaded revolvers literally 
drove the men out of their places of security and 
into line. With death behind them and death in 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 245 

front of them, the Boches had little choice. They 
stumbled forward, a spiritless mass of men, for 
now they were convinced that the Yankees were 
unbeatable. 

The Americans all but came out of the trenches 
to meet them. They stood up in bold relief and 
fired and fired and fired. Machine-guns rattled, 
rifles spoke in deadly accents, and the Boches lines 
melted away. But the Teutonic officers, these 
Czars of the battlefield, who pushed their men 
like so many sheep, drove more and more men into 
the always wavering line. On they came, more 
and more piling forward, stumbling over the 
bodies of their fallen comrades, and crowding on 
in surging, seething masses, toward the Yankee 
trenches. 

The carnage was terrible. Men went under by 
the hundreds. No Man’s Land was a hideous 
sight. The air was rent with the flashing tongues 
of the rifles, and the roar of battle. And high 
above it all came the screams and cries of the 
wounded. It was a scene to drive men mad, and 
scarcely a man on either side was really in his 
right senses. 

Ray realized that in a vague sort of a way, 
when he found himself yelling and shrieking and 
firing with the rest, firing and fighting like a 
maniac. Tommy, beside him, was just as bad. 


246 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


He was in a terrible rage, and the look on his face 
was something hideous to behold. 

But the Huns came on. They dared not go 
bask. On they rolled, despite the fact that hun- 
dreds were falling on every hand. By sheer 
weight of numbers and mass of men, they pressed 
forward. The Americans, as hard and as accu- 
rate as their fire was, could not seem to break 
them up. There were too many. The Yankees 
could not load and fire fast enough to beat them 
back. They came on like a tremendous herd of 
buffaloes, heads down, bayonets flashing in the 
battle fire, and guttural roars swelling from their 
throats and rolling across the night. 

“They're coming now, Buddy boy,” yelled the 
big infantryman, to Ray. “There must be mil- 
lions of them. They're going to roll over us like 
a steam roller over flies, but we won't give in. 
Not by a jugful, we won't.” 

“Your tootin' right, we won't,” yelled Ray. 
We'll fight until — Man! Man! Look! Up there! 
Aloft!” 

Ray clutched his arm and pointed above them. 
His quick eye had caught the flash of signal lights 
in the sky. It was a flash he knew; the flash of 
signals from an artillery observer's machine, cir- 
cling in the air like a huge night hawk. 

Hardly had he spoken, when, at four different 
points among the mass of advancing Huns, a fire 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 247 

of shells burst with a roar. They were ranging 
shells from the batteries. 

An instant later in the night sky flashed out 
the “Hit Sign” of the observer, then “Go Ahead.” 

Scarcely a second later things began to happen 
with a vengeance. From far back across the 
river, a perfect tornado of sounds rolled forth, 
and before the astonished Yankees, fighting fran- 
tically to keep the Huns from crossing the re- 
maining fifty yards of No Man’s Land, there 
burst a curtain of fire and smoke that was stun- 
ning in its force. In the very heart of the Ger- 
man mass this cyclone of death ripped forth, and 
the surging crush of Boches was literally blotted 
out. 

“The barrage ! A barrage fire ! The Artillery 
is in place ! Thank goodness,” yelled Ray. 

And what a barrage fire that was. 

Tons and tons of metal and explosives were 
hurled through the air from the batteries across 
the river. They burst in a wall of flame and 
death before the advancing Huns. And, as the 
panic-stricken Germans turned to flee, behold, 
they faced another barrage fire to their rear, for 
the Yankee gunners were making certain of their 
work. 

Caught between the two curtains of destruc- 
tion, the Boches, maniacs now with fear, went 
down like grain before a reaper. Thousands of 


248 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


them perished with each blast of the American 
guns. The destruction was horrible to witness. 
But it was witnessed on all sides by madmen, for 
Huns and Yankees alike were crazed with the 
scenes before them, and the appalling strain they 
had been under these hours past. 

Not a hundred of those thousands of Germans 
who had essayed the final charge ever returned to 
their trenches alive. Battalions were wiped out. 
“No Man's Land" was strewn with bodies so 
thickly that one lay piled upon another. 

And then, not satisfied with this destruction, 
the American barrage moved on and fell along the 
Hun trench line mercilessly. In the briefest pos- 
sible time the trenches that had been so labori- 
ously dug were wiped out of existence. The 
ground was ploughed and churned up, as if a 
giant harrow drawn by the forces of Mars had 
swept back and forth across it. 

The barrage was laid down continuously after 
that, and the exhausted Yankees, in their shallow 
trenches, rested behind its protection, all ex- 
hausted and spent by the terrible ordeal. 

Then, not long after the Huns had been thrown 
back, came better news. Under the intense artil- 
lery fire, American engineers were throwing pon- 
toon bridges across the river toward that salient. 
Looking over the parados of the trench, Ray 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLEEY 


249 


could see the shadowy figures laboring with pon- 
toons and timber, and the bridges grew swiftly. 

Soon the structures were completed, and then 
came the Yankee relief forces, thousands of men 
in khaki. 

What yells of greeting went up from the battle- 
ridden few that were left in the salient when the 
advance guard of fighting Americans came tum- 
bling into the trench. It was a scene that Ray 
and Tommy, as sick as they felt, will never forget. 
It put heart and vigor into everyone, and the 
Huns must have known, as they heard those 
cheers ring forth, that their opporunity to take 
the river salient and drive the Yankees across the 
river, was gone forever. 

But the boys in khaki did not stop at the shal- 
low trenches. They formed their battle front and 
went on; on over the top; on behind the barrage 
fire, on over the mass of dead and wounded Ger- 
mans. Forward they swept, across the desolate 
stretch of No Man’s Land, over the shell-wrecked 
trenches, on and on and on. And those of the few 
remaining Yankees, who had so valiantly de- 
fended the salient and were still able to stagger 
forward, joined the ranks of the reinforcements, 
and went on up the river with them. 

Ray and Tommy, weak and worn and feverish 
though they felt, were among them. 


250 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


Finding another belt of cartridges, and snap- 
ping a bayonet on his rifle, Ray followed the head 
company over the top and Tommy was close at 
his heels. 


OF THE FIELD AKTILLERY 


253 


CHAPTER XVII. 

IN THE) JAWS OF the: YANKEE NUT CRACKER. 

It was a Yankee cyclone; a khaki tornado that 
swept up the river driving the Huns before them. 
So swiftly did they move, and so determinedly 
did they fight, that the Germans could not make 
a stand anywhere. All that they could do was 
run; toss their arms and equipment away and 
plunge on in full flight. Blustering officers 
shouted orders, but even threatening pistols in 
the hands of their overbearing commanders, were 
not sufficient to check the rout of the Huns. 

A half mile behind the German trench lines a 
mass of men did make a show at resisting the 
Yankees. They were crowded in a group behind 
a barricade of fallen trees and a shell-shattered 
transportation truck that had somehow blundered 
too close to the front and had been caught in the 
American fire. 

But they might just as well have been trying to 
stop the sun rise as to have tried to hold off the 
Yankees. Down swept the boys in khaki, trium- 
phant yells ringing forth, and glittering bayonets 
leveled, and Ray and Tommy, yelling with the 


252 BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 

rest, were in the first line that clashed with the 
horde of Huns. 

Not entirely untrained in the art of bayonet 
fighting, and with indomitable courage to back 
them up, the two young artillerymen never hesi- 
tated. They leaped forward to a clash with the 
Boches, and the next instant Ray’s steel was 
clashing and scraping against that of a stalwart 
Hun, who looked at him with glaring eyes and a 
face distorted with a mixture of wrath and fear. 

The Hun lunged, but Ray turned his glittering 
knife aside, and lunged in turn, only to have his 
rifle parried, then seized in the strong hands of 
the German and wrenched from his grasp. This 
threw Ray into a towering frenzy, and with a mad 
yell, he leaped for the Hun’s throat. Down they 
crashed, and Ray saw his opponent’s head strike 
the steel hub of a shell-smashed truck wheel. The 
blow was enough to crack any man’s skull, and 
the German went unconscious with a gasp. 

Still in a towering frenzy, Ray found his rifle 
again, and looked about him for more Boches. 
He discovered Tommy, fighting like a madman in 
a narrow passage between the side of the smashed 
truck and a fallen tree, trying to beat back a Ger- 
man, far taller and more powerful than he was. 
Ray came to Tommy’s rescue with the butt of his 
rifle and from the rear put the German out of ac- 
tion for the rest of the night at least. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


253 


The advancing wave of Yankees re-formed 
again. Ray and Tommy joined the group that 
was rushing up the river, driving a pack of Boches 
before them. 

Soon the Germans began to scatter broadcast, 
and as a consequence the men in the van of the 
Yankee horde that swarmed across the river and 
through the salient, became scattered too. Ray 
and Tommy found themselves in with a squad of 
infantrymen of which their big friend was one. 
They were rushing up the river bank, stumbling 
through the darkness that was only dispersed in- 
termittently by the flashes of battle. 

And as they plunged forward, sounds of a 
greater battle — the roar of tremendously heavy 
bombardments and the rolling rifle and machine- 
gun fire were swept toward them from behind the 
hills on the other side of the river. The Yankees 
were attacking the German lines over there too. 
With the coming of this noise, it slowly dawned 
upon Ray and Tommy and the rest of the men of 
the group, just how the situation was being 
worked out by the clever American commander, 
and with this revelation it became very apparent 
why the officers had insisted upon holding that 
one lonesome sector across the river, why so much 
artillery had been suddenly concentrated behind 
that salient, why pontoon bridges had been thrown 
across in the face of German fire, and why thou- 


254 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


sands upon thousands of Yankees, had been hur- 
ried across to plunge into the gap that was broken 
through the German lines. 

Ray and Tommy, and his companions of the in- 
fantry, were a part of a great flank-turning 
movement. The Yankees who had come across 
the river and were sweeping up the left banks and 
through the surrounding country, constituted one 
arm of a tremendous nut-cracker. On the other 
bank of the river, beyond the hills, was the other 
arm of the crushing force, and between the two 
steadily closing jaws was the Teutonic main line 
of defense. It was now a question of driving the 
Huns from the left bank of the river and rolling 
forward, thus having troops in the front and rear 
of the Teutonic position. Either that, or pres- 
ently the Germans on the right side would have 
to cross over and take their chances at breaking 
through or getting away from the boys in khaki 
on the left side, and that was the chance that Ray 
and Tommy, and the thousands of other Yankees 
were hoping for. 

“We got the Huns where we want 'em this 
time, ,, yelled the big infantryman, as he looked 
across the river, to find the fire of battle sweeping 
along the top of the hills opposite. “We’ve got 
’em in a hole. They’ll be trying to squirm out and 
across the river higher up. Look, look, see them. 
They are pulling out transports and ammunition 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


255 


trains now. They must have bridges higher up 
the river.” 

“They have,” cried Tommy and Ray eagerly, 
remembering the bridges they had seen being put 
across just below their hiding place early in the 
evening. “They have. They are up above. Come 
on, fellows.” 

The squad plunged forward, and behind them, 
through the darkness, they could hear more and 
more Yankees following them, all making toward 
the bridges which they hoped to destroy and thus 
cut off the retreat of the Huns. 

Forward they plunged, and as they stumbled 
through shell-torn woods, the darkness of night 
began to fade, and pale dawn started to come on. 
Through the half-light they could behold shadowy 
figures moving on the opposite bank of the stream 
and shouts and cries in guttural tongue were 
wafted across to them. 

A keen, active lieutenant of the infantry, who 
had been keeping track of the men even in the 
darkness, now appeared in front of the mass of 
moving Yankees on the river bank. He was a 
worn and haggard looking officer, with blood 
dried and encrusted on his face, his hat and over- 
coat gone, and one hand bound up in bloody ban- 
dages. But he was all fire and action neverthe- 
less. 

“There they are, men. Over there. Open up 


256 


BARRAGE EIRE BARNES 


on ’em. Keep up a running fire.” Then, suddenly 
realizing that he was not issuing regulation com- 
mands, he snapped out. “Fire at will!” and 
added, “Come on, you fighting bad men, open up 
on ’em over there and give ’em fits !” 

But there was little need for such encouraging 
words, for the men had opened up on them al- 
ready, and a running fire along both sides of the 
river was started. This was the sort of fighting 
the Yankees liked. No trenches for them. In the 
open was the sort of stuff they were after, where 
a quick eye and a quicker trigger finger counted. 
They showed just how much these things did 
count, too, for they poured a heavy rifle fire into 
the disordered ranks opposite, and the Boches 
took to every form of cover and fired back as best 
they could. But their riflery was nothing to the 
accurate, steady hammering of the Americans. 

The wounded Lieutenant took a position on the 
bank very near the water’s edge, crouched behind 
a fallen tree, close to where Ray and Tommy were 
hiding. 

“We’ve got them in a crusher, sure enough,” 
cried the Lieutenant. “With troops on this side 
and more and more troops storming the other side 
of those hills yonder, the Boches haven’t half a 
chance of standing us off. The thing that puz- 
zles me is why those troops on the other bank 
aren’t moving up to get across.” 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


257 


“The bridges are up above. They — they — 
Lieutenant, they are probably moving the artil- 
lery across the river now. I’ll bet there's a jam 
at the bridges and they are holding back the in- 
fantry while they get the guns across/’ exclaimed 
Ray, for being of the artillery, his first thoughts 
were naturally of the enemy’s artillery. 

The Lieutenant looked at him sharply, then at 
the corporal’s stripes on his arm and his artillery 
designation on his collar. “Who — where — how 
did you get here?” he demanded. Then, without 
waiting for an answer, he continued, “Say, you 
didn’t get those corporal’s stripes for nothing. I 
believe you’ve hit it. And that’s where all the fun 
will be too, at the bridges where they jam. Come 
on, men.” 

He was on his feet in an instant, and the men 
who were massing on the river banks and the hun- 
dreds of others that were piling in behind from 
new .orces rolling through the salient, followed 
him. Up the river bank they surged. Tommy 
and Ray and their big infantry companion close 
behind the officer. On they rushed, paying but 
small heed to the scattering rifle fire from the op- 
posite banks. 

It was as Ray had anticipated. As they hur- 
ried up the river, the condition on the opposite 
banks became more and more apparent. Men and 
transports were jammed there, all eagerly trying 


258 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


to get across. At one point, an engineers’ corps 
was trying to throw a new bridge across. Sweep- 
ing fire from the Yankees on the opposite banks 
put an end to the operations. 

On sped the boys in khaki, and presently, far 
ahead, they beheld the series of German pontoon 
bridges, now highways, packed and jammed with 
retreating German troops and equipment. 

What a fire they opened up on those bridges 
with their rifles, and what a panic their coming 
caused. Hurriedly the motor transports were 
withdrawn from the bridge and troops thrown 
across to try and check the advance of the coming 
Yankees. 

But they might just as well have been trying to 
stop judgment day. The skirmish lines thrown 
out by the Boches crumpled up like paper before 
the onrush of the Americans. They were hurled 
back and blotted out in less time than it took them 
to form, and the Americans swept forward with 
a wild dash and were soon swarming the woods on 
every side. 

“Oh, for some artillery now, or even some hand 
grenades,” cried the Lieutenant, as he beheld, a 
hundred yards away, a packed and jammed pon- 
toon bridge, the first of the series which the Ger- 
man engineers had completed. 

“I’ll warrant it will be up mighty soon,” cried 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 259 

Ray, through a sense of loyalty to the arm of the 
service to which he belonged. 

“Soon, soon! But it’s needed now! Artillery, 
close behind us could clean out those bridges and 
then we would have everything our way. The 
Boches couldn’t get across. They would be 
trapped. We could get thousands of prisoners 
and guns and put a crimp in their operations in 

this sector for weeks to come. Oh, for a ” 

A wild yell went up from their left where a 
roadway cut the woods. It was followed by a 
stubborn, but brief, whirl of rifle fire, and Ray 
and Tommy and the Lieutenant, plunging toward 
the sound, broke upon a mad scene. There, 
jammed in a roadway, in a mass of kicking, 
screaming, wounded horses, and a pile of wreck- 
age, was piled up a German gun section. Evi- 
dently it had been the last of a retreating column 
of artillery, when a chance shell had fallen in its 
midst, killing horses and men, and actually chok- 
ing the roadway with bodies and wreckage. 

“Wow, there’s your artillery,” cried Ray, al- 
most deliriously. “There’s your artillery, Lieu- 
tenant. Let’s take their own guns and turn ’em 

on them. It’s — it’s ” 

Ray did not finish, for the remaining German 
cannoneers and drivers, crouched behind the 
wreckage, were putting up a stubborn battle with 
their carbines. They knew that their end was 


2G0 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


near, but grimly they decided to hold their own 
as best they could. They were defending their 
gun, defending it as all good artillerymen do, to 
the very last. What a skirmish it was ! Ray ad- 
mired the pluck of the cannoneers, despite the fact 
that they were Huns. They fought as artillery- 
men, certain that they could not hold the guns 
against the mass of Yankee soldiers. 

Suddenly Ray let out a yell of warning. 

“Tommy, Tommy,” he cried, “get that man. 
Get him before he puts the gun out.” 

Ray had seen one Boche artilleryman stagger- 
ing toward the breech of the gun. His hand 
reached out and he began fumbling with the 
breech lock. He was trying to disable the gun. 
In a flash Ray realized that the gun had been 
caught in the tide of battle so swiftly that the 
cannoneers had not had a chance to perform their 
first duty under such circumstances, which is to 
disable the field-piece, temporarily at least, by 
withdrawing the pin, and thus preventing the pos- 
sibility of the weapon being turned against them. 

Both Ray’s rifle and Tommy’s rifle rapped out 
a shot and the daring cannoneer crumpled up and 
fell helpless across the trail. Others tried to 
accomplish the same feat and failed, as the first 
had, and presently, with a wild rush and mad yells 
the Yankees closed in and wiped out all that was 
left of the stubbornly resisting gun crew. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


261 


Ray and Tommy were the first to reach the gun. 
Eagerly they swooped down upon it. Ray climbed 
in among the wreckage, and, regardless of the 
squeeling and kicking of wounded and dying 
horses, he began a hasty inspection of the piece. 
It was a German 77. He had seen the type before 
at the French artillery school, where some like it, 
captured by the French forces, were on exhibi- 
tion. 

“It's all right, Tommy. It’s not damaged a bit. 
Look quick, and see if there are any shells left in 
that limber. Hurry !” 

Tommy was scrambling among the wreckage 
too. He peered under the cover of the caisson, 
and a disappointed look came into his fever- 
flushed and blood-smeared face. 

“Not a rotten shell,” he yelled. 

“Look in the limber. Reserve supply,” 
screamed Ray, unwilling to be cheated out of an 
opportunity to use the gun. 

Tommy looked, and the Lieutenant rushed over 
to search with him. 

“Wow! here’s ten rounds, and three of ’em 
shrapnel !” yelled Tommy in ecstasy. 

The Lieutenant rushed toward Ray. 

“Do you know the gun? Can you use it? Do 
you know how to fire it?” he cried excitedly. 

“Know how? You bet your — yes, sir, I know 
how to handle it,” said Ray, catching himself 


262 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


when he realized that he was talking to an officer. 
"Yes, sir, I know how to fire it. But I need some 
help in getting it into position. Let some of the 
men lend a hand.” 

There was no need for a command. Dozens of 
fellows put down their rifles and seized hold of 
the gun, some lifting the heavy spade, some turn- 
ing at the spokes of the wheels, and some even 
dragging at the heavy muzzle. 

"Bring the limber along, too,” yelled Ray, and 
more men turned their attention to that. Then, 
with swarms of fighting, yelling, Yankees circling 
about them, Ray and his volunteer gun crew 
trundled the heavy field-piece back to a clearing 
on the river bank and within full view of the 
bridges. Below them, companies of Americans, 
massed near the bridges, were fighting a fierce 
fight against the detachments that had come 
across to check the advance of the boys in khaki, 
while on the bridges, taking advantage of every 
moment, were masses of men and transports, try- 
ing to gain the other bank of the stream so that 
they could continue their flight to the rear before 
the American nut-cracker closed. 

"Over here !” yelled Ray, "wheel her over here. 
Tommy, Tommy, get at that limber. Hurry up. 
Don’t bother with the shrapnel yet. Bring a shell, 
a shell, a shell. Tote one over here.” Then — 

"Come on, fellows, help me lay this piece. That 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


263 : 


way, that way ! Swing her spade around and put 
it against that mound of earth so she will dig in at 
the first shot and stick. Put a chock under that 
wheel. A chock, a chock, so she won’t slide down 
into the river. That’s it. Tommy, Tommy, 
where’s that shell?” 

Ray was almost beside himself. He was in a 
frenzy; a frenzy of eagerness to lay the gun and 
pull the landyard. He wanted results. He 
wanted grim results. He wanted to see those 
bridges shattered as the bridge he was on yester- 
day was shattered by Boche shells. He wanted to 
collect a debt, to collect for Chet Warren, whose 
body was somewhere in that muddy, swirling 
river, and for Spike, and for his dozens of com- 
rades who had been slaughtered on the bridges 
of yesterday. 

Eagerly he leaped to the side of the gun, and 
threw himself astride the gunner’s seat. With a 
point blank target not a quarter of a mile away 
he had little difficulty in training the piece. In a 
jiffy he had the long, sleek muzzle of the German 
77 pointed full at the center of the nearest bridge 
which was crowded with a mass of moving men 
and vehicles. 

“Tommy, Tommy, where’s that shell? Shove 
it home ! Hurry, hurry i” he screamed. 

Tommy was staggering under the weight of a 
brass and steel 77, and right behind him was an- 


264 


BAEEAGE FIEE BAENES 


other volunteer gunner and still another and an- 
other, all carrying shells. 

“Set the nose, Tommy, set it for percussion fire. 
You know how! You’ve done it before. But 
hurry, hurry, hurry, or the first thing you know 
their artillery will get wind of us and we’ll be out 
of commission before we fire a shot. Hurry!” 

Tommy set the shell for contact fire, and slipped 
it into the open breech. Ray slammed the block 
back and locked it, looked once more at the angle 
of the barrel, then leaped back and seized the 
landyard, which he had fastened on. 

“Whoope-e-e,” he howled deliriously, “here’s a 
shot for Chet Warren. Good old Chet.” 

BOOM! 

The Teuton gun belched a sheet of flames, and 
recoiled slightly, digging its spade deep into the 
earth and settling into a permanent position. 

“Whiz-z-z-ez — Bang!” roared the shell, and 
what a yell went up when the eager, waiting Yan- 
kees, beheld a cloud of black smoke and a flash of 
flames burst full in the middle of that jammed 
pontoon bridge. 

Timber, men, wreckage, fire and smoke, all 
merged into one in the center of the span, and 
yells of fear and terror followed the noise of the 
explosion. It was a terrible scene that the blood- 
mad Yankees beheld out there in midstream. Men 
were in the water, plunging, rearing animals, 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


265 


sought to climb into collapsing pontoons, wreck- 
age was scattered everywhere and the shattered 
bridge was fast breaking up and floating down 
stream, while men at either side were scrambling 
terror-stricken for the shore. 

It was a horrible scene but it stirred in Ray 
and Tommy a grim satisfaction. It was repara- 
tion for all the horrors they had passed through 
during the last forty-eight hours. It was repay- 
ing the Germans in their own way for the suffer- 
ing they had inflicted upon them and their com- 
panions. It was collecting for Chet Warren, for 
Spike, for Buck Cassidy, Falkner, Scotty Ar- 
buckle, and hosts of others who had “gone West” 
at the hands of the Huns. 

“Chet is avenged!” cried Ray, beside himself 
as he saw the wreckage that single shot had 
achieved. “Now a shot for Spike, and one for 
the first section of J Battery. Hurry, another 
shell! We’ll try the bridge above. Come on, 
Tommy. Tommy, Tommy, hurry! We’ll get all 
four bridges if we work fast!” 

He leaped to the gunner’s seat even before the 
blast of the first shell had died, and eagerly laid 
the field-piece for the next bridge above, which, 
too, swarmed with Boches. Frantically he worked 
and frantically worked Tommy. The breech 
block snapped open, the empty shell rattled to the 
ground, another scraped into place, and Ray, 


266 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


never leaving the cannoneer's seat this time, fired. 

“BOOM !” roared the ugly 77. 

“Whiz-z-z-ez — Bang!" roared the shell, burst- 
ing close beside the second bridge. 

“Missed," screamed Ray, in a perfect rage. 
“Come on, Tommy, another. I've got her on the 
mark this time." 

“Ready," he roared an instant later. 

“Bet your boots," yelled Tommy. 

“BOOM !" 

“Whiz-z-z — Bang!" and then a wild cheer went 
up. 

“Hit ! Hit ! Right in the middle of the bloom- 
ing thing!" cried Ray, and his cheer was echoed 
by all the Yankees gathered about the gun. 

“Come on. Another. We'll get the next 
bridge. We'll get it. We must get it. We'll 
clean 'em all out, the rats," cried Ray, hardly 
knowing what he was saying, but working fran- 
tically the while. 

Another shell was fired and went hissing up the 
river to the third bridge. It required two shots 
to put this out of commission too, but in the end 
it w r as a battered wreck of a bridge that floated 
down stream. 

The fourth bridge remained. Ray was laying 
the piece for that. Tommy was slipping home the 
shell. Ray clamped down the breech block. Then 
something happened. 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 267 

Across the river a German battery had come 
into position and hidden itself on the hillside. On 
the instant that Ray was ready to fire the 77 at 
the fourth bridge, the German battery opened up 
with four screeching shots aimed at that single, 
troublesome gun. 

The shells came hissing across the valley, and 
burst with a deafening roar in the vicinity of the 
lonesome 77. The concussion hurled Ray from 
his seat, and threw Tommy flat on his face, and 
the death dealing shrapnel scattered the Yankee 
soldiers like a flock of sparrows. 

These men of the trenches knew what shells 
were. They knew the deadly “whizz-bangs” and 
“flappers” and they realized when they came it 
was time to take to cover. They scattered, run- 
ning low, and dodging behind trees to get out of 
the way. Even the wounded Lieutenant, with a 
warning yell, broke for the protection of an over- 
hanging bank that hid a sunken portion of the 
road nearby. 

In a towering rage, Ray scrambled to his feet. 
He would not run. Not from the rotten Huns. 
He would get that fourth bridge or die. 

“Tommy, Tommy! Stand up, you lummocks! 
Don’t let a pack of dirty butchers scare you! 
Come on! Come on! We’ll get that bridge,” he 
shrieked in a frenzy. 

And curiously enough the German shelling had 


268 


BAEEAGE FIEE BAENES 


the same maddening effect on Tommy. The 
young American staggered to his feet, grinned 
an ugly grin as he yelled, “Fire that gun ! Fire it ! 
We have more shells here. Clean out the bridge 
and then go after the battery/’ 

“BOOM !” roared the old 77, and in the deep 
detonation Ray and Tommy seemed to find relief 
for their feelings. 

Away sped the shell, and in a perfect geyser of 
w^ater and whirling timber, the bridge disap- 
peared from sight. The Germans on the other 
bank were cut off completely. With the unford- 
able river before them and the irresistible Yan- 
kees crowding in behind, and with thousands of 
boys in khaki fast swarming over the opposite 
bank, cutting off all retreat the Huns were 
hemmed in. Their flank had been turned. They 
were powerless to do anything but fight to the 
death or surrender and ask for quarters. What 
had been a strong German position, had been 
turned into a disastrous one by the valiant hold- 
ing of that salient, and by the supporting work of 
that single captured seventy-seven. It was a tre- 
mendous victory. Thousands of men, with trans- 
ports, batteries and supplies were hemmed in on 
the opposite bank. Their surrender was inevi- 
table. 

“Yah, that’s giving ’em fits!” cried Ray, as he 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 2G9 

viewed the chaos and havoc created by that single 
gun. 

“Let her flicker. Let’s give ’em another,” cried 
Tommy, staggering over to the limber and drag- 
ging out another heavy shell, regardless of the 
German shells that were bursting about. 

It required all the strength that Ray had to 
pull open the breech block. He wondered vaguely 
what was the matter with him. Was he tired or 
sick or weak or what? His head seemed all 
fuzzy and things seemed blurred before his eyes. 
He was working in a sort of a dreamy haze. With 
an effort he yanked the breech block open and 
pulled out the empty shell, while Tommy slipped 
home the other one. He would give them another 
shot for luck. 

“Let her go,” shrieked Tommy, deliriously, “let 
her go ! Let her go !” 

Ray looked at Tommy. He saw him only va- 
guely. He knew there was something strange 
about him. Why was his voice so weird and ter- 
rible? Why was he acting so peculiarly? 

Then suddenly a desire to yell seized him too, 
and letting, out a most unearthly scream he closed 
the breech block and fired the piece again. 

He was growing weaker. He could feel it. 
He had to use two hands and all his strength to 
get that breech block open the next time. Did the 
blooming thing stick, or was he — was he — what 


270 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


was the matter with him? Why did he feel all 
burned out inside? Why was his head thumping 
and pounding, and why did these sharp stabbing 
pains shoot through his chest and back? He must 
be wounded ! Wounded ! Pshaw, what did he care ? 
He could only die once. He was having fun. They 
were giving the Germans fits. Come on, Tommy ! 
Move faster, you. What on earth ails you? 
You’re as slow as a turtle. Come on, we’ve got 
a thousand rounds to fire yet; ten thousand 
rounds. We are chained to the gun. We can’t 
get away. What’s the use of trying. Fire it! 
Load it and fire it! That’s all we have to do. 
Come on, you slow poke, or I’ll beat you up. 
Come on and give me another shell. Hurry up, 
and stop making faces at me, Tommy. Stop it I 
say! I’m Ray, I am. I’m not a Boche. Don’t 
grin at me, you fool.” 

Then suddenly his voice took on a frantic 
screeching tone. He was pointing wildly to the 
rear, down the road that led from the American 
pontoon bridges far below. 

“Tommy! Tommy! Quick. For mercy’s sake 
hurry. Here, help me. Here come the Boches. 
They are behind us. The rats. They have es- 
caped from the trap and gone clear around the 
world, now they are coming up behind us. Look, 
they have Chinamen with them ! And giants, and 
roaring bulls. Get this gun around, quick ! 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 271 

Hurry, hurry, hurry ! Switch it around ! 
Tommy, Tommy, where are you? Oh, Tommy, 
help ! Hurry up, you fool, or they’ll trample us 
down! Oh, Tommy, help me-e-e-e!” his voice 
died off into a strident wail and he fell limp across 
the gun, while Tommy collapsed on top of him. 


272 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


CHAPTER XVIII. 
when the: artillery arrived. 

Their heavy barrage fire lifted, with which 
they had held of! the Huns from the besieged sa- 
lient on the other side of the river, the 506 Field 
Artillery Battalion received orders to advance to- 
ward a new position, and under cover of darkness 
the batteries, with Battery J in the lead, swung 
across the new pontoon bridges that the American 
engineers had built and over which regiment after 
regiment of Yankees had swept to come to the as- 
sistance of the men in the salient, and started up 
the river, choosing a road that was fast being 
cleared by the forces that preceded them. 

Through the battle-marked area, where their 
shells had beaten back the Huns, the batteries 
swung now over the deserted American trenches, 
later across the German trenches and on and on 
up the river road. Daylight had come and deso- 
lation marked the scarred and shell-furrowed sec- 
tion through which the batteries rumbled. Ahead 
was fighting; plenty of it. Up there was where 
the batteries were needed. On pushed the col- 
umn, and presently as they pushed forward a 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


273 


motor-cycle courier came up to Colonel Martin 
and gave him a hasty verbal message. 

“Four bridges spanning the river. If they can 
be smashed now, Colonel Roberts says the day is 
won. Only artillery can do it, sir, and you must 
hurry,” were the words the messenger snapped 
out. 

An instant later orders flashed down the line 
for increased speed and the gait of the horses 
soon developed into a mad gallop under the urg- 
ing of the American drivers. 

On and on they plunged, bound for a position 
from which they could shatter the four pontoon 
bridges by means of which the Germans were try- 
ing to make their escape. 

But before they had gone very far a startling 
thing happened. A mile ahead and on their side 
of the river a single gun opened up. 

Colonel Martin looked surprised. He turned 
to Captain Blanchard, who was riding close be- 
hind him and exclaimed. 

“What's that? Sounds like a battery ranging. 
Didn't know there were any American guns on 
this side of the river.” 

The officers listened. 

“There it goes again. Sounds like a German 
77 to me.” 

“Nonsense. It couldn't be. A German gun on 
this side of the river, and in action , not when 


274 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


there are thousands of our troops swarming about 
us over here ! It’s very strange !” 

A few minutes later still another surprise oc- 
curred. From far across the valley, on the right 
bank of the river and in the hills, four detona- 
tions rang out, and the next instant four columns 
of black smoke and four explosions sounded on 
the left bank dead ahead of the artillery column 
not half a mile. 

“That’s a German battery, exclaimed the Col- 
onel, and it’s shelling the gun on this side of the 
river. This is a mystery.” 

Still the lonesome gun on the left side kept up 
its firing, as the batteries drew nearer. Presently 
under German shell-fire, the artillery column 
swept into position, the three remaining guns of 
J Battery dashing up a slight incline by the side 
of the road to swing into position at a point over- 
looking the river. And Colonel Martin and Cap- 
tain Blanchard could not credit their eyes with 
the strange thing that they saw. 

There on the rising was a single German 
77, with two limp forms lying beside it. It 
was a German gun, all right, there was no 
mistaking that, and the limber nearby was a 
German limber too, but the strange part of it was 
that the two men who lay nearest it, one with his 
hands clutching the spade of the gun, were clad 
in American khaki. And strangest of all, the 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


275 


four bridges that the courier had told of but half 
an hour before, were gone, and the river was 
filled with a mass of wreckage. 

Hastily, Captain Blanchard leaped down from 
his horse, and with Lieutenant Ramsey close be- 
hind, he rushed up to the now silent German gun. 

The Lieutenant reached down and turned one 
of the limp forms over. Then he gasped and stag- 
gered backward. 

“It's Barnes — Barrage-Fire Barnes, as the 
fellows used to call him. You remember, the fel- 
low who had that fuzzy Airedale with him all the 
time ; the dog that found Gunner Cassidy and me 
in the shell hole that night? Barnes is the fellow 
who carried me out. Poor Barnes. But I thought 
he was lost with the first gun section yesterday. 
How on earth could he have turned up here? 
And — and as I live, the other one is Caisson Cor- 
poral Wrenn. This is a — Captain, they are alive! 
They are not dead. Did you see Barnes move. 
And look, look, Wrenn is breathing! Hi, Or- 
derly ! Orderly ! Get stretcher bearers, quick — 
what’s that, Captain.” 

“I have it! I know now,” exclaimed Captain 
Blanchard, smiling, after having apparently 
cleared up a mystery that was troubling him. 

“This was the gun that was firing, and I do be- 
lieve these young hounds were firing it. They 
are the ones that cleaned out the bridges ; yes, sir, 


276 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


they are — or — or — well, I’ll eat my leather gaunt- 
let if they didn’t. Get ’em to safety immediately, 
Lieutenant. I’ll attend to the battery.” 

And then, as Battery J came into action and the 
three remaining guns began to thunder away at 
the batteries across the valley, and while the other 
batteries of the column were coming into posi- 
tion further along the river, four stretcher bear- 
ers appeared, lifted the two forms that clung to 
the German gun, and carried them, in sagging 
stretchers, toward a field ambulance that had 
come up in spite of the German shell fire. 

“Looks like they were in a mighty bad way,” 
said one of the stretcher bearers, as he passed his 
end of the canvas litter into the ambulance and 
climbed in after it to make it secure against jolt- 
ing. 

“Bad is no name for it. Both of ’em burning 
up with fever, besides being considerably shot to 
pieces in spots. My guess is pneumonia, and, be- 
lieve me, they look so far gone that I don’t think 
they’ll last till we get ’em back to the dressing- 
station,” said the other. 

Pneumonia was the stretcher bearer’s guess 
and he was right. But he was wrong in his sur- 
mise that the two husky young Americans would 
not last until they reached the dressing station. 
To be sure they were mighty far gone when the 
ambulances rumbled over the pontoon bridges 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


277 


down stream, and with horns screaming for an 
open road, rushed on through the battle-marked 
country toward the dressing station that had been 
established in a dug out portion of a hill. 

There was little doubting that their condition 
was serious. The hazardous adventures of the 
day before, and that horror of a night with the 
hours spent in the river, the nervous strain of the 
battle for the salient, the running fight along the 
river, the capture of the field-piece, and every- 
thing else, including their utter lack of rest or 
food for nearly four times around the clock, had 
combined to break them down to a point where 
pneumonia was the inevitable result. 

Back at the dressing station, the physicians 
shook their heads as they surveyed the two un- 
conscious forms. 

“In a bad way; a mighty bad way. Besides 
pneumonia they both have their share of wounds. 
Don’t believe either of them can live long. Must 
have gone through some mighty hot action. Get 
them to the hospital as quickly as you can. No 
delay. There is just the remotest possibility of 
saving them.” 

Stimulating hypodermics were given to each 
6f them and their wounds attended to, and then 
they were bundled into another ambulance that 
went flying back to the big hospital where Ray 
had been once before. 


278 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


By a strange chance Ray and Tommy were ta- 
ken to the same ward where the same pleasant- 
faced nurse, and same efficient army physician 
were in attendance. 

Both shook their heads when they beheld the 
condition of their new patients. 

“Not a ghost of a chance,” • said the physician, 
feeling Tommy's pulse. 

“This one is weak to T why, this chap has 

been here before! Remember, there were three 
of them. This one had a dog; an Airedale. Poor 
chap, I guess he's done his bit, all right.” 

“Who? the man or the dog?” queried the phy- 
sician. 

“The man, I mean, of course.” 

“Well, there’s a fighting chance,” said the phy- 
sician. 

“All right, we'll fight for it,” said the nurse 
crisply. 

And fight they did. Day and night for nine 
long days the tireless nurse and the pleasant little 
girl who relieved her, watched the feverishly toss- 
ing Ray and Tommy. They did everything they 
could to relieve the dreadful condition of the boys, 
and Ray's mother could never have done more. 

On several occasions they almost gave up in de- 
spair, for there hardly seemed to be a flicker of 
life left in the fever-ridden bodies, but somehow 
the strong, clean lives that both of the boys had 


OF THE FIELD ARTILLERY 


279 


lived always told at those critical times. For 
where lungs that were filled with nicotine and 
tobacco stains would have collapsed under the 
strain, those of Ray and Tommy stood the strain, 
and fought for them. And in the end they tri- 
umphed. 

On the ninth day the fever was broken, and for 
the first time since they came to the hospital the 
boys opened their eyes fully conscious of their 
surroundings. But they were so weak and ex- 
hausted that neither of them could utter more 
then whispered words. Indeed, they seemed too 
weak to think and they lay there, just inert forms, 
for days and days, slowly winning back the 
strength that had been theirs before they had col- 
lapsed and gone under. 

Weeks lengthened into months. Winter passed 
out entirely. Spring came on and was merging 
into summer before the two chaps, thin and 
emaciated looking, were able to leave their beds. 

Then in wheeling chairs they were permitted 
to go out on the balcony and breathe in the 
warm spring air and bask in the sunlight. And 
it was while they were there that Captain Blan- 
chard and Lieutenant Ramsey came to see them 
for the first time. 

“Hello, boys,” said the Captain, as he greeted 
them. “Don't think because we haven't visited 
you before that we never thought of you. We've 


280 


BARRAGE FIRE BARNES 


kept track of your mighty hard fight for life dur- 
ing all these past weeks and we are relieved to 
know that you've pulled through. You are both 
looking fine now. How do you feel?" 

“Strong as a horse," said Tommy with a weak 
smile. 

“Shucks, sir, I could go out and yank a field- 
piece all over the parade ground," said Ray. 

“Yes, you could. Why, man, it will be three 
months before you are fit for service again, but 
when you are ready we'll be ready for you. 
We're in need of a couple of first class Sergeants 
and you'll both do I guess. I brought some books 
along so you can study up a bit when you get a 
little stronger. How will it seem to boss a whole 
section around?" 

“Fine," said Tommy. But Ray hesitated a mo- 
ment before he answered. Then he said: 

“Well, Captain, I appreciate being promoted 
and all that, but you know there's a fascination 
about being Gunner. I'm going to handle the old 
piece once in a while myself just to keep in trim, 
if I get to be Sergeant." 

“Oh, you'll get plenty of chance to," assured 
the Captain, and he patted him on the shoulder 
affectionately. Then turning to Lieutenant Ram- 
sey he spoke again: 

“Say, Lieutenant, you have something inter- 


OF THE FIELD AKTILLEKY 


281 


esting to show Barnes and Wrenn. Those clip- 
pings, you know.” 

“Oh, yes, sir, to be sure. I nearly forgot them. 
Here you are. Some interesting dope one of our 
newspaper correspondents clipped from the New 
York papers that arrived in camp about a month 
ago.” 

Ray took them eagerly, and the first black 
headline that jumped up at him from the paper 
read: 

Yankee Artillerymen Smash Him 
Bridges With Captured Field Piece 

There were many others that said the same 
thing only in words differently arranged, and hid- 
den away in the columns of text matter, Ray dis- 
covered his own name and that of Tommy. 

“Jingoes, Tommy, look here. We’re really 
famous,” he exclaimed excitedly, handing half of 
the bundle of clippings to his companion. And 
they spent a mighty pleasant afternoon reading 
and rereading the different versions of their ex- 
ploits with the captured German 77. 


the: end. 





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53 

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BOY SCOUTS AND THE ARMY 
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BOY SCOUTS* MOUNTAIN CAMP 

Just so often as the reader draws a relieved breath at the 
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BOY SCOUTS FOR UNCLE SAM 

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The Motor Cycle Chums 
Around the World 

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The Motor Cycle Chums of 
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The Great Northwest is a section of 
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The Motor Cycle Chums 9 Whirlwind Tour 

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The Motor Cycle Chums South of the 
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The Motor Cycle Chums through Historic 
America 



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The Boy Inventors 9 Wire- 
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The Boy Inventors 9 Radio Telephone 

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The Dreadnought Boys on 
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The Dreadnought Boys 
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In this story real dangers threaten 
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The Dreadnought Boys on a Submarine 

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The Dreadnought Boys 9 World Cruise 

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THE BOY AVIATORS IN NICA- 
RAGUA 

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THE BOY AVIATORS ON SECRET 
SERVICE 

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THE BOY AVIATORS’ TREASURE QUEST 

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12 ] 


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Row a Brooklyn boy became a wireless 
operator and shared in the work of res» 
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WIRELESS 


The Ocean Wireless Boys 
and the Lost Liner 


1 BOYSoa^ 
ATLANTIC 


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through grave perils. 



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THE BORDER BOYS ON THE 
TRAIL 

What it meant to make an enemy of 
Black Ramon De Barrios — that is the 
problem that Jack Merrill and his 
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this exciting tale. 

THE BORDER BOYS ACROSS 
THE FRONTIER 

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THE BORDER BOYS IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

On mountain trails beside mountain canyons the Border Boys 
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THE BORDER BOYS ALONG THE ST. LAWRENCE 

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The Motor Rangers’ Lost 

Mine 

This is an absorbing story of the con- 
tinuous adventures of a motor car in 
the hands of Nat Trevor and his friends. 

The Motor Rangers 
Through the Sierras 

Enemies in ambush and the guarding 
of treasure make exciting times for the 
Motor Rangers — yet there is a strong 
flavor of fun and freedom, with a 
typical Western mountaineer for spice. 

The Motor Rangers on Blue W after 

The strange adventures of the sturdy craft “Nomad” and the 
stranger experiences of the Rangers themselves from the basis of 
this well-spun yarn of the sea. 

The Motor Rangers 9 Cloud Cruiser 

From the “Nomad” to the “Discoverer,” from the sea to the 
sky, the scene changes in which the Motor Rangers figure. 

The Motor Rangers 9 Wireless Station 

The “Nomad” again figures largely in this story of the Motor 
Rangers, and its adventures begin in response to a wireless call 
for help. 

The Motor Rangers Touring for the Trophy 

' Keen rivalry between a number of motor cars in a long-dis- 
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and exciting. 

The Motor Rangers are “on the go” all the time; never a dull 
minute when you are with them. They spin along into new 
climes and encounter strange experiences. High speed books 
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BUNGALOW BOYS SERIES 

is) By DEXTER J. FORRESTER 

Cloth. Illustrated. Price 50c. Each 

The Bungalow Boys 

How the Bungalow Boys received their 
title and how they retained the right to 
it in spite of much opposition makes a 
lively narrative of lively boys. 

The Bungalow Boys Ma» 
rooned in the Tropics 

A real treasure hunt of the most thrill- 
ing kind makes a subject of intense in- 
terest at any time, but add to that a 
band of desperate men, a dark plot and a 
devil-fish, and you have the combina- 
tion that brings strange adventures. 

The Bungalow Boys in the Great North West 

The clever assistance of a young detective saves the boys from 
the clutches of Chinese smuggler^ of whose nefarious trade they 
know too much. 

The Bungalow Boys on the Great Lakes 

The Bungalow Boys start for a quiet cruise on the Great 
Lakes and a visit to an island. A storm and a band of wreck- 
ers interfere with the serenity of their trip, and a submarine 
adds zest and adventure to it. 

The Bungalow Boys Along the Yukon 

Into a wild country on a dangerous quest the Bungalow Boys 
go next, their uncle and his partner in charge of the enter- 
prise to which they are pledged. 

The Bungalow Boys North of Fifty-Three 

This volume continues the strangely interesting adventures of 
the boys in Alaska. A vivid picture of the land in the grip of 
winter is given. 

If you want real live-wire books of adventure, the “Bunga- 
low Boys” stories will fill the bill. They are snappy, clever and 
overflowing with thrilling incidents and experiences. You will 
like these books. 

Sent postpaid at 50 cents per vol. f or the six for $ 2.50 . 



HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK 



Dictionaries of the 
Foreign Languages 


The increased demand for good, low-priced, Foreign 
Dictionaries, prompts the publishers to issue an up-to- 
date line of these books in German, French and 
Spanish, with the translation of each word into 
English, and vice versa. These lexicons are adaptable 
for use in schools, academies and colleges, and for all 
persons desirous of obtaining a correct knowledge of 
these languages. 

Durably bound in half leather, size 7x5$, fully illus- 
trated, we offer the following : 

GERM AN-ENGLISH Dictionary, Price, Postpaid, $1.00. 
FRENCH-ENGLISH “ “ $1.00. 

SPANISH-ENGLISH “ “ “ $1.00. 

Or, the publisher* will send all three, postpaid, 
upon receipt of $2.50. 

The same books, without illustrations, bound in cloth, 
size 6x4£, are offered at 50c., postpaid, 
or, all three for $1.00. 

Our “new possessions” make it imperative that an 
understanding of these languages are a necessity, and 
these books will fill a long felt want. 

"Write for our Complete Book Catalogue. 

HURST & CO., Publishers, 395-309 Broadway, Hew York 


# 


Dictionaries of 
the English 
Language 

A DICTIONARY is a book of reference; a book 
that is constantly looked into for information on 
various meanings and pronunciations of the several 
thousand words of Qur language. The publishers, 
recognizing the importance of placing before the public 
a book that will suit all pocket-books and come within 
the reach of all, have issued several editions of Dic- 
tionaries in various styles and sizes, as follows : 



Peabody's Webster Dictionary, • • 20c. 

Hurst's Webster Dictionary, • • • • 25c. 

American Popular Dictionary, ... 35c. 

American Diamond Dictionary, 40c. 

Hurst's New Nuttall, 75o. With Index, $1.00. 

Webster’s Quarto Dictionary, Cloth, - $1.25. 
44 “ 44 M Russia, $1.75. 

44 44 44 Pull Sheep, $2.25. 


Any of the above will be mailed, postpaid, at the 
prices named. 


Send for our complete catalogue of books. 

HURST & CO., Publishers, 395-399 Broadway, New York. 


A BOOK OF THE HOUR 


The Simple Life 

By CHARLES WAGNER 


Translated from the French by H. L. WILLIAMS 


The sale of this book has been magnetic and 
its effect far-reaching. It has the endorsement 
of public men, literary critics and the press 
generally. 

This is the book that President Roosevelt 
preaches to his countrymen. 

The price is made low enough to be within 
the reach of all. Don’t fail to purchase a copy 
yourself and recommend it to your friends. 

Cloth binding, i2mo. Price, postpaid, 50c. 


Get Our X»atest Catalogue— Free Upon Bequest. 

) 

HURST & CO., Publishers, NEW YORK 





^ Elegant Gift Books ^ 

Hurst’s 

Presentation 

Series 

> Distinctive Cover Design 
on Each Book 


A BEAUTIFUL series of Young People’s Books to 
suit the tastes of the most fastidious. The pub- 
lishers consider themselves fortunate in being able to 
offer such a marvelous line of choice subjects, made up 
into attractive presentation volumes. Large type, fine 
heavy paper, numerous pictures in black, inserted with 
six lithographic reproductions in ten colors by eminent 
artists, bound in extra English cloth, with three ink and 
gold effects. 

Price, postpaid, $1.00 per volume. 


Alice in Wonderland and Through 
the Looking-Glass. 

Andersen’s Fairy Tales. 

Arabian Nights. 

Black Beauty. 

Child’s History of England. 
Grimm's Fairy Tales. 

Gulliver’s Travels. 

Helen’s Babies. 

Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare. 


Mother Goose, Complete. 

Palmer Cox’s Fairy Book. 

Peck’s Uncle Ike and the Red- 
Headed Boy. 

Pilgrim’s Progress. 

Robinson Crusoe. 

Swiss Family Robinson. 

Tales from Scott f or Y oun g People. 
Tom Brown’s School Days. 

Uncle Tom’s Cabin. 


! Books sure to be a delight to every boy and girl who 
becomes the proud possessor of any or all of them. 

Write for our Complete Catalogue. 


HURST & CO., Publishers. 39S-399 Broadway, New York. 



Mirthfnl Books "Worth Reading I 

9eek 9 s ^ooka 

of Mumcr 

No author has achieved 
a greater national reputa- 
tion for books of genuine 
humor and mirth than George W. Peck, 
author of “ Peck’s Bad Boy and His Pa.” 

We are fortunate to be able to offer, 
within everyone’s reach, three of his latest 
books. The titles are 

Peck’s Uncle Ike, Peck’s Sunbeams, 
Peck’s Red-Headed Boy. 

CLOTH Binding, 69c., Postpaid 
PAPER Binding-, 30c., Postpaid, 

By failing to procure any one of these 
books you lose an opportunity to “ laugh 
and grow fat.” When you get one you 
will order the others. 

Send for our Illustrated Catalogue of Books. 

HURST & C0„ Publishers, 395-399 Broadway, New York. 



Books That Command a Large Sale 


‘Black <Hpck of the Selkirks 
By Ralph Connor, Author of “ Sky Pilot, ” Etc. 

Have you read it? If not, by all means 
do so at once. We make the cheapest 
edition published by offering a cloth bound 
book at 30 cents, postpaid. 

Samantha at Saratoga 

By Josiah Allen’s Wife. 

It would be hard to correctly state the 
number of copies of this laughable book 
that have been sold, but it would reach 
into the millions. We propose to continue 
its popularity by making a low-priced cloth 
edition. Price, 30 cents, postpaid. 

WE MAIL CATALOGUES TO ANYONE 
UPON REQUEST. 


BEST & CO., Publishers, 395-399 Broadway, New York. 



Just Issued at a 
Popular Price 


Hans 

BrinRer 


or 


The Silver Skates 

toy 


MARY MAPES toODGB 

charming story, depicting life in 



Holland, is now published for the first 
time at popular prices. Whether you have 
been to “The Land of the Dykes" or not, 
you will want to read this famous book. 

We make a handsome cloth bound edition 
of it, which we will mail anywhere, post- 
paid, upon receipt of Fifty Cents. 

Ask us to mall you our complete catalogue 


HURST & CO., Publishers, NEW YORK 



LBS’2 





































LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



